Forces of Destiny
by KeepingUpDisappearances
Summary: Rose Granger has been searching for true love all her life-in all the wrong places. Emmett Hawksworth's harrowing divorce has left him wary of falling for another woman. But that may all change when Rose's and Emmett's lives become intertwined at one of Hyacinth Bucket's candlelight suppers. Rated T for some adult themes.
1. Unsympathetic Listeners

It was another typical morning at the old council house. Onslow was carefully studying the _Racing Post_ for the entries in the Queen Elizabeth II Stakes. Daisy was sitting comfortably in the battered sofa, reading _Gone with the Wind—_a departure from the paperback romances she usually read. Suddenly she looked up, turned to Onslow, and said seriously, "Onslow, if England was in another civil war and this town was being burned down by the enemy, would you _save _me or abandon me?"

Onslow looked up and stared. "What kind of question is that to ask a bloke when he's trying to decide if he wants to be for Rousing Sermon or Golden Ticket?"

"Can you stop thinking about racing for one minute? Well, what _would _you do?"

"What would I _what?_"

"Abandon me during a violent war—or stay by me?"

Onslow shook his head. "I wouldn't abandon you," he said without pause. "Dais', I think that book's getting to your head."

"Well, Rhett Butler abandons Scarlett when Atlanta, Georgia, is being burned to the ground by the Yankees. I don't know why this book is considered a romance novel. It's not very romantic. Rhett keeps treating her horribly, but she always runs back to him!"

"That sounds like the story of your Rose," Onslow said snidely.

"I heard that!" Rose cried, bursting into the living room, violently slamming the door behind her.

"Hello, Rose," Daisy said lazily.

"'Hello, Rose', indeed!" Rose snapped, now standing in front of Daisy and fixing her with a venomous glare. "Reading while your oafish husband insults your own sister!"

"Why, Rose, what's wrong? You usually don't get worked up like this!" Daisy said in mock surprise. "Well, _maybe _just once or twice…a minute…"

"…all year," Onslow sniggered, winking at Daisy.

Rose flung up her hands and paced back and forth. "Oh, _sure, _let's make fun of our Rose!" she wailed, with the inimitable dramatic air that she had perfected. "She's fair game! She doesn't have any thoughts or feelings, or…"

"All right, who broke your heart now?" Daisy said patiently.

"It's that Mr. Fontaine! He went and married that German minx after all!"

"Oh, well, better luck next time!" Onslow snickered.

"Onslow, be nice!" Daisy said, but she couldn't help laughing.

"Oh, still laughing at your sister's grief!" Rose hissed. "I guess I'll find no sympathy in this house! Perhaps I ought to consult that dishy vicar again—for spiritual advice!"

Onslow snorted derisively. "You want _something_ from that vicar, but I know it isn't anything spiritual!"

"_Honestly!_" Rose grumbled. "So insensitive you two are! Oh, by the way, _Daisy_, Rhett abandons Scarlett so that she develops the character that sees her through hardship later in the book. But of course, that's probably too deep for you to comprehend."

She flounced out of the room.


	2. A Soiree for Emmett

While Rose's 'drama' was unfolding at the council house, Emmett was pruning the rosebushes in Liz's front lawn while his sister was out on errands. Yes, it was mid-morning and inevitable that a certain Hyacinth _Bouquet_ would come out of her house, likely to 'sing at him', but Emmett had gotten tired of his sister's goading him to finally stop avoiding Hyacinth, and he was determined to succeed. Yes, that would shut her up (Liz, not Hyacinth)!

The sound of the Buckets' front door opening caused Emmett to jump, nearly giving himself a bad laceration with the pruning shears. He warily turned his head and was relieved to see that it was just Richard, who gave a friendly smile and walked over to the low wall that separated the two driveways. Emmett put down the pruning shears and went to greet Richard.

"You're sharply dressed for it being so early," Emmett said, looking at Richard, who was crisply attired in a gray suit, silk tie and an impeccably lint-free felt hat.

"Hyacinth and I are going to a new antiques shop the next town over," Richard said. "I can't help but feel overdressed, though," he admitted.

"I suppose Hyacinth 'suggested' what you should wear," Emmett said slyly.

"Or _told_ me to, yes," Richard answered, catching on and smiling jovially.

At that moment, the door opened again and Hyacinth emerged. Emmett forced himself to stay in place; he _could_ have made an excuse and left, but then Liz would inquire—and it would do him no good to lie. With her 'sister's intuition', Liz would see past it easily.

"Gooood morning, Emmett!" Hyacinth called, hurrying over to stand next to Richard. "You know, Emmett, I was just suggesting to the vicar that we add some variety to the Sunday's hymns."

"Really?" Emmett said disinterestedly.

"Yes! I was thinking we could try hymns from around the world, not just England," Hyacinth said. "Most of them aren't _nearly_ as orthodox as the English hymns, but there are some good ones in the lot."

"That's nice," was Emmett's insincere reply, but Hyacinth smiled broadly.

"Isn't it?" she said. "I was thinking for tomorrow morning's service we could try The 'Battle Hymn of the Republic'."

"The anthem of the Yankee soldiers in the American Civil War?" Richard asked, surprised.

"Yes," Hyacinth said, as if admitting something terrible. "It _does_ originate from a rather untidy war—but the lyrics are appropriately religious. I did run it past the Vicar, of course, for his approval."

Hyacinth began to sing shrilly. "My eyes have seen the glooory of the coming of the Lord—."

Richard interrupted her. "You did want to get to that antiques shop early, didn't you?"

"Oh, _yes,_" Hyacinth said. "I completely forgot! Discussing music distracts me sometimes. I'm sorry I can't finish the song, Emmett dear, but you can sing it with me at tomorrow's service. I must get to the antiques shop early, before the commoners have pawed all of the items."

"Splendid," Emmett said, with no attempt to hide his sarcasm.

Hyacinth walked back to the car, but sang over her shoulder, even as she was getting in:

"—he has trampled out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored…"

Richard steered the car out of the Buckets' driveway and drove away. Emmett sighed in relief and returned to gardening; as he pruned a small ornamental shrub, he thought to himself that Hyacinth's voice surely would have made America's civil war end much sooner than it had—just hearing her voice, the Southern rebels would probably have begged for mercy and surrendered! Emmett laughed aloud at his own words.

Liz returned from her errands a few minutes later. As soon as she exited her car, she immediately pounced on her brother and demanded to know if he had managed to keep to his vow of staying in place whenever Hyacinth appeared.

"I succeeded!" Emmett said. "Even when she was singing the' Battle Hymn of the Republic'," he added, wincing at the memory.

"I do have to give you credit," Liz said. "Why, though, was she singing _that?_"

"Hyacinth wants to add some international hymns to Sunday's lineup at the service tomorrow morning," Emmett said wryly. "If only the Yankees had had a Hyacinth during their war; she could sing at the Southern rebels, and they'd run!"

"Now, Emmett, that's not very nice!" Liz exclaimed, but she chuckled.

**...**

In the early afternoon, when Buckets returned from the antiques shop, Hyacinth stopped at Liz and Emmett's house to invite the former to tea. Liz accepted the invitation (would she do otherwise?) and, after making sure she looked tidy, followed Hyacinth to the _Bouquet_ residence.

"Sit down, Liz, and I'll show you what I got at the antiques shop," Hyacinth said proudly.

Liz did so (remembering to take the chair that _didn't_ face the window), and Hyacinth disappeared into the lounge, returning with a square box. Ever so carefully she removed the contents.

"This is a genuine _Gottlieb*_ teapot," Hyacinth said grandly. "They're _almost_ rare. I don't think the shop owners know what Gottlieb is. I only paid forty pounds!"

Liz admired the beautiful teapot, with its intricate pattern of crimson and orange autumn leaves etched on a powder blue background.

"Of course, this will be for display only," Hyacinth said.

"I can understand that," Liz said, who had once seen an appraisal for a Gottlieb vase on _Antiques Roadshow_; it had been appraised very highly.

"I didn't just invite you here to show you my lovely teapot," Hyacinth said, sitting down. "I wanted to talk to you about Emmett."

"What about Emmett?" Liz said, instantly on alert.

"Well, his birthday is next week. I wondered if you would help me plan a little soiree."

"Actually, Hyacinth, Emmett doesn't want any fuss over his birthday," Liz quickly informed her, but Hyacinth condescendingly shook her head.

"Certainly he will be grateful for a kind gesture from a neighbor! Don't you remember the little supper I held for him last year? He _so_ enjoyed it."

Liz remembered. Emmett, of course, had not really enjoyed it; he had managed to get through well enough by talking to Richard until Hyacinth decided to 'entertain' him with a selection of classic jazz songs. Hyacinth had taken Emmett's sullen silence to be a compliment. 'See how quiet Emmett is,' she had said proudly. 'I always know when people enjoy my singing; they are always left speechless.'"

Returning to the present, Liz repeated again, "Really, I'm sure Emmett will appreciate the thought but he—,"

"Now, now," Hyacinth clucked, "I know you might feel a little intimidated by working with me, since I have so much experience in arranging delightful social gatherings, but you needn't feel that way! We shall work together as friends, and I will take into consideration _all_ of your ideas!"

Liz knew that if she didn't refuse Hyacinth now, she never would. Gathering up all her courage, she said quite firmly:

"No, I must respect my brother's wishes. If you want to invite him to this soiree, I cannot stop you; but as for myself, I'll have nothing to do with it."

Whether Liz or Hyacinth was more stunned at this unexpected defiance was hard to tell. Hyacinth was still for several seconds, staring at Liz as if she had gone mad. Liz felt elated; she had _finally _refused one of Hyacinth's demands!

"Very well," Hyacinth said at last. Her tone was rather stiff. "I must say I am disappointed, but I will honor your…refusal."

"Perhaps I'd better be going, Hyacinth," Liz said hastily.

Hyacinth recovered her 'gracious hostess' demeanor, but she nodded.

"Yes, I think that will be best. I must call my Sheridan, anyway, to see how he is getting along at university."

When Liz returned to her own house and closed the door behind her, she went into the living room, sank into the nearest chair, and laughed so wildly that she was ashamed of herself. She had said 'no' to Hyacinth _Bouquet!_

Emmett wandered into the living room to find out why his sister was sister was laughing uncontrollably, and when Liz managed to recover from her near hysterics, she recounted the afternoon's events.

"You actually said 'no'? To _Hyacinth_?" Emmett said incredulously.

"Yes, I did," Liz said, somewhat smugly.

"You saved me from a night of misery!" Emmett exclaimed, hugging his sister. "Imagine—no dining by candlelight, no Hyacinth singing, no cucumber sandwiches and stuffed olives!"

Liz smiled. "Yes, you couldn't call Hyacinth's menu casual," she said. "Speaking of which, did you want me to make you anything special for your birthday supper?"

"Oh, the chili you make would be nice," Emmett said cheerfully.

"Your wish is my command, then," Liz said. "Are you sure there's nothing else you want to do on your birthday?"

"Richard and Onslow have invited me for a drink at that pub Onslow likes," Emmett said cheerfully. "They'll meet me at noon when I'm on my lunch break. That sounds enjoyable."

Liz then said wickedly:

"Now that you'll be another year older, maybe _you_ can finally find the strength to say no to Hyacinth the next time she invites you to one of her social gatherings! You know, like I just did."

"Are you going to hold that over my head for the rest of my life?" Emmett asked.

"Why, of course I will," Liz said, grinning. "If _I_ managed to say 'no' to Hyacinth, surely you can!"

**...**

Emmett's birthday dawned on a cool, slightly overcast day. As usual, Emmett walked to work, enjoying the pleasant weather and thinking about the work that lay ahead of him. His students at the amateur operatic society were rehearsing—coincidentally—some selections from the musical version of _Gone with the Wind_. Unfortunately, most of the students were having a hard time getting into character. Perhaps, Emmett reflected, it was somewhat understandable, for _Gone with the Wind_ was one of the most epic and beloved American novels.

There wasn't much improvement that day, but Emmett was patient; at least his students were working very hard and really trying.

"Very good, very good," Emmett praised as the noon hour approached. "You may all take a break until one-thirty. When I come back, I'll have all of you just work on the songs themselves, tone, pitch, and all that—get away from studying the characters for a while, so you don't get 'burned out.' "

Relaxing at the pub with Richard and Onslow was quite enjoyable. Richard and Onslow insisted on picking up the tab, and after a round of good beer and pub food, Onslow challenged Emmett to a game of pool. Emmett was well-defeated, but it he had had a very good time.

Emmett's music students did so well practicing their singing that he dismissed them early and made the walk home, taking his time to enjoy the fresh air, which held a promise of rain.

"I'm back, Liz!" Emmett said cheerfully as he entered the house. He perked up, catching the scent of paprika and cumin. Liz came out of the kitchen, smiling.

"I figured you might want to eat early tonight, so I started the chili," she said. "It should be ready in about two hours."

"Splendid," Emmett said cheerfully, and settled onto the sofa to finish reading _The Eagle Has Landed,_ a very intriguing World War II-era spy novel. He had just gotten to a very exciting plot twist when the doorbell rang.

"I'll get the door. You just relax," Liz said as she hurried out of the kitchen. Emmett returned to his reading, but a moment later he heard a voice that made him cringe.

"Elizabeth!" Hyacinth said grandly. "I just came to wish your brother a happy birthday."

"I'm sure he'll be glad of that," Liz said cheerfully, and called over her shoulder, "Emmett! Hyacinth wants to wish you a happy birthday!"

Emmett grimaced and flung his book onto a nearby table. Surely, just for his birthday, Liz could have lied for him and made up some excuse to prevent him from having to see Hyacinth. Emmett mentally complained until he got to the front door. Liz stood aside so that a broadly smiling Hyacinth could give Emmett her best wishes.

"Happy birthday, Emmett! Isn't it a _won_derful day!"

"Oh yes, grand," Emmett managed to reply.

"I've arranged a little something for your birthday," Hyacinth said, still smiling, and a sense of dread washed over Emmett. He and Liz exchanged a quick, worried look.

"Oh?" Emmett said with forced politeness.

"Yes. You see, I had wanted your sister to help me arrange a little soiree, but she refused to assist me, though I cannot imagine why. Thus, I wish for _both_ of you to come here at six o'clock for a light supper with entertainments."

"We-eelll…" Emmett said slowly, determined to refuse Hyacinth's invitation—or rather, her order.

He looked squarely at his neighbor and began, "I don't think I can—,"

"Thank me enough?" Hyacinth said with her saccharine smile. "No worries; your acceptance of my kind offer is thanks enough."

Liz jabbed her brother in the side with her elbow, and Emmett started to speak again. "No, no, Hyacinth, your offer is very kind, but—,"

"Oh, don't worry, Emmett. It's nothing fancy. It'll be just like relaxing with family!" Hyacinth said brightly. "Now I must go and start the preparations. See you later!"

When Emmett had closed the door, Liz turned to him and gave him a most provoking smile.

"Maybe you'll be able to say 'no' to Hyacinth _next_ year," she said, with no attempt to hide the glee in her voice.

"Ha, ha," Emmett said, and he stalked back to the living room.

**...**

At promptly six o'clock in the evening, Emmett and Liz were at the doorstep of the Buckets' house. With great reluctance, Emmett pushed the doorbell; the extravagant ring could be heard even though the door was closed.

The door flew open at once, and there was Hyacinth, smiling broadly.

"Emmett! Thank you for coming!" Hyacinth said. "And Liz, how nice and…relaxed you look!" she said, with no attempt to hid her insincerity.

Liz wondered what Hyacinth found wrong with her crisp pink dress with the pretty pattern of ivy leaves scattered over it, but she made no comment.

"Come into the dining room, Emmett," Hyacinth said, and Emmett obediently followed.

When he entered the dining room Emmett narrowly avoided saying aloud, "I thought you said this was casual, Hyacinth!"

This 'soiree' certainly wasn't. Hyacinth had a fine linen cloth on the table, and had set out her best silverware. In the center of the table was an overly elaborate floral arrangement. On either side was a candle that stood in a very expensive-looking pewter candlestick.

Besides Hyacinth, Liz, and Richard, only two others were in attendance—Michael Evans, the town's vicar, and his wife, Alice.

Emmett once again managed to secure a seat next to Richard, and the two talked earnestly in between bites of 'finger food', a very light cream soup, and an arugula salad. Emmett tried not to think about the delicious chili that was keeping warm on the stove in Liz's house.

Half-way through the meal, Hyacinth stood up grandly and announced:

"Now I shall sing a few select songs for our _most_ important guest."

Emmett cringed as Hyacinth began to sing 'There Will Always Be an England', but before she had gotten to the third verse, the doorbell rang several times. With the air of a queen giving a command, Hyacinth ordered Richard to attend to the door, and then she picked up where she had left off.

Yet again she was interrupted. The dining room door flew open with a bang. A short-skirted blonde was standing in the doorway, looking excessively distressed until she noticed the vicar. Alice bristled as Rose flashed him a coy grin, but Michael only gave a cursory smile in return. Rose turned her attention to an astonished and embarrassed Hyacinth.

"Hyacinth, Father thinks he's in the war again! He may be trying to get to London to enlist!"

Michael and Alice exchanged a puzzled glance, but Emmett and Liz knew vaguely that Hyacinth and her sisters' father was somewhat senile. Rose went on:

"I had to _walk_ here. Onslow's old tinner wouldn't start and my car's in the shop! Talk about an inconvenience! We need to use your car to go downtown and see if Father's at the bus stop."

Hyacinth, who had momentarily lost the power of both speech and movement at Rose's bold entrance, hurried to the doorway and grabbed her sister by the hand.

"Why did you come in _here?_ Where's Richard?" she demanded as she dragged Rose out of the room.

Hyacinth soon got her answer; when she and Rose were halfway through the hall that led to the front door, Richard came out of the bedroom, holding a tissue to his nose. Hyacinth gave him one of her trademark scathing glares, and Richard hastily explained.

"Your sister accidentally hit me in the head with the door, and somehow I got a bad nosebleed. She trotted off before I could stop her."

"You _mustn't _get nosebleeds at your age, Richard," Hyacinth said sternly. "You should not have been so careless."

"This isn't solving the problem with Father!" Rose exclaimed. "One of you will have to drive me so I can find him."

"Richard," Hyacinth ordered, "please give Rose a lift, would you? It's imperative to find Daddy."

"I'm still bleeding, Hyacinth," Richard objected. "Perhaps _you_ could drive her."

"Me?" Hyacinth said. "But I must attend to my guests!"

"Would you two stop _arguing?_" Rose snapped, just as a voice said behind them, "I'll give you a lift, Rose."

It was Emmett's voice. Rose perked up at once, turned around and gave him a bright, flirtatious smile. "Emmett, how very kind of you!" she cooed.

"Now, Rose, _I'll _drive you," Hyacinth said with a sigh. "We won't trouble Emmett on his birthday. Richard, see to our guests."

Richard, who was still bleeding, though not as much, nodded, but Emmett interjected.

"No, it really is no trouble," he said quickly, and a delighted Rose hurried him out of the house. Hyacinth watched them leave and shook her head in disapproval.

"I wish Rose didn't have such a powerful effect on men," she said to Richard. "I had _such_ a nice little party arranged."

**...**

"Where did you want to go, Rose?" Emmett asked politely as he turned off of Heather Avenue.

"The bus stop on Elm Street, downtown. The bus that goes to London stops there," Rose said. "By the way, I must thank you again."

"Glad help out," Emmett said sincerely. He paused. "Besides, I really wanted to get away before Hyacinth continued singing."

Realizing what he had just said about Rose's sister, he backtracked quickly.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so blunt."

"Oh, don't worry about it," Rose giggled. "We all know she sings terribly."

Emmett did not initiate a conversation. He couldn't think of what to say to flirty, high-strung, eccentric Rose. There was no need for him to bother, however; Rose kept up a stream of constant chatter. She told about her dramatic love life, how aggravatingly insensitive Daisy and Onslow could be, and how sexist some Americans could be, judging their vice-presidential candidate Sarah Palin for 'trying to look too young' and 'not taking the campaign seriously'! **

Emmett finally got to the up to the bus stop. Yes, Daddy was there, wearing a steel helmet and trench coat, a bayonet tucked under his arm.

Rose quickly leapt out of the car and went to her father, gently coaxing him away from the bus stop by informing him that the war was over. The old man nodded and obediently went into the backseat of the car.

As Emmett pulled away from the curb, Rose glanced back at Daddy to see that he was alright. His drugs were finally taking effect. She turned back to Emmett and gave him directions to the council house.

"How is your father now, Rose?" Emmett asked.

"He's asleep," Rose said, trying to sound nonchalant, but there was something in her voice that made Emmett turn around briefly to look at her. Rose's face was troubled.

"Are you alright?" he asked kindly as he turned his attention back to the road.

"No," Rose admitted sadly. "I just—I keep thinking of how Father used to be. He was so vibrant and _alive,_ but ever since Mummy died thirty years ago, he's gotten worse and worse. We hate keeping him on sedatives, but it's better than him just—well, running off like he did now, and maybe getting hurt. Well, we'll have to adjust the dose…again. It's so discouraging sometimes."

Rose's voice broke and she cried. Emmett reached out with his free hand and gently patted her arm.

"It's all right," Emmett said. "Cry if you need to; I won't talk anymore."

And Rose did cry. Emmett stayed silent and gave her privacy, but inwardly he was feeling great pity for Rose. His and Liz's mother had gone into severe senility in her mid-eighties, and Emmett, Liz and their father had watched helplessly as Mrs. Hawksworth had gone deeper and deeper into delusions, sometimes saying things such as, "Allen, you need to go pick up Lizzie and Emmett from school," or 'talking' to her late, beloved great-aunt Mildred. Gradually she had gotten worse until she was only a mere shell of herself…

"Emmett, you turned the wrong way," Rose interrupted his thoughts.

"Oh, so I did," Emmett said apologetically, turning around. He thought for a moment and then said slowly:

"I really can sympathize with you, Rose," and told her about how he and Liz had struggled through their mother's deteriorating years.

"It is difficult to get through, isn't it?" Rose said softly as Emmett pulled up to the council house. He looked at Rose, who still looked grieved, and before he knew what he was saying…

"Listen, I know of a nice café downtown. Why don't you come with me and get something to eat? It might help you feel better."

Rose smiled through her tears; it wasn't one of her coy, 'come-hither' smiles, but one of surprised gratitude.

"That sounds lovely," Rose said gratefully. "I'll get Father to the door, if you can help. Daisy and Onslow will take over from there."

Daisy was already waiting at the door as Rose and Emmett got Daddy out of the car. His sedatives were now strong enough that he couldn't walk on his own, but the two were able to guide him in walking back to the house.

When Daisy saw Emmett, she looked surprised, but did not comment. Instead, she asked Rose if she was coming into the council house for the day.

"No," Rose said. "Emmett and I are going to get something to eat downtown, so I'll see you later."

"All right, then," Daisy said, and called back over her shoulder. "Onslow! Help me get Daddy upstairs!"

**...**

Emmett took Rose to Cherry Blossom Café, a comfortable, informal little place on a street corner in the outskirts of downtown. He insisted on treating Rose to one of the café's signature pastries and a cup of coffee. Rose thanked him graciously for the gesture, and when the food arrived, they began to chat, this time talking about lighter, happier topics.

"Anything new in your musical career?" Rose asked, adding, "Aside from Hyacinth begging you for a part in your next production?"

"She doesn't know about what my students and I are working on now," Emmett said. "I vow to keep it that way."

"Why, what _are _you doing now?" Rose asked curiously.

"Some selections from the musical interpretation of _Gone with the Wind,_" Emmett answered, and when Rose perked up, he said, "Have you seen the musical?"

Rose shook her head. "No, but I have read the book. It's one of my favorites."

This led into a conversation about books. Much to Emmett's surprise, Rose was an avid reader and very well-read, at that, eagerly taking from _any_ genre of fiction.

"Unlike the rest of the family," Rose said, with just the slightest hint of arrogance in her voice.

Emmett laughed when Rose claimed that her sisters and Onslow could all be identified by their choices of reading material. There was Hyacinth, with her huge library of books about housekeeping and social graces; Daisy, the sentimental, with her serial romances; Onslow, who was either reading the _Racing Post_ or a tome about science; and Violet, interested in the classics—and the classics _only._

"Violet's a dear, but she's also a bit of a literature snob," Rose said honestly. "When I told her I was reading _Harry Potter_ she got a bit preachy."

Emmett laughed. "There's nothing wrong with reading children's books. Sometimes I read the _Hardy Boys_ books for that feeling of nostalgia."

Rose grinned.

"I read the _Nancy Drew _mysteries when I can find them. They make me feel like a young teenage girl again."

The two talked for a little longer about books, and the subject of the conversation turned toward music again. Neither of them really realized what a good time they were having until Rose glanced at her watch and thought she had to go home.

"I have to be at Weatherby's early tomorrow morning," Rose said, referring to a small department store in town. She worked there part time as a cashier and enjoyed it; it gave her something to do (when she wasn't with her 'gentleman friends'). Rose also took pride in her hard work.

Tonight, however, she was wishing that this evening with Emmett could go on longer.

"I really enjoyed tonight," Rose said brightly, her brown eyes flashing flirtatiously at Emmett.

Emmett smiled awkwardly, but he said, rather enthusiastically:

"Yes, that _was_ enjoyable."

Rose's eyes widened in surprise.

"Maybe you'd like to go out again sometime!" she suggested eagerly.

Emmett wished he had had not shown so much alacrity. Doubtlessly, Rose was hoping that he wanted to start seeing her on a regular basis. Emmett had not meant to give that impression, and he was struggling to figure out what to say without sounding rude. Rose was waited patiently, an expectant expression on her face.

"Eh, I really don't go out much," was all Emmett could come up with.

Rose looked very disappointed as they left the restaurant, and she was silent during the entire drive back to the council house. When she exited the car, Rose flounced away without a word or even a parting glance. She held her head held high, as if Emmett had committed a grave offense.

The dingy street was mostly dark, despite the orange glow of the streetlamps, so Emmett waited until Rose had gone into the house and closed the door behind her before he drove away.

Inside the council house, Rose was eagerly telling the story of her day to Daisy; she seemed to have already recovered from her indignation at Emmett's refusal. She teared up a little as she told about Emmett's sympathetic words regarding Daddy, but as soon as she started describing how enjoyable the evening had been, Rose's eyes were sparkling eagerly.

"Emmett said he didn't want to go out again, but who knows! He _might_ change his mind!" Rose's tone was cunning and she smiled at her own words. Rose Granger did not give up easily when she had her eye on a man…

* * *

* The Gottlieb company is fictional.

** Yes, I am putting 'Failin''Sarah Palin in the time period of the KUA series (1990's). It just popped into my head. Yeah, I'm weird.


	3. A Ride into Town

_**Note:**_The basic plot of this chapter is adapted from incidents in KUA Series 2 episode _The Toy Store_ and contains a minor amount of dialog taken from the episode.

* * *

A fortnight after Emmett's eventful birthday, he and Liz were planning to go into town. They were going to shop for a birthday gift for Gail, Liz's daughter and by extension, of course, Emmett's niece. There was a bit of a problem, however. Liz's car refused to start.

"I wish Richard wasn't away," Emmett said to Liz, frowning. "If his car was here, I'm sure he'd be more than gracious to give your car a jump."

As he was saying this, a familiar vehicle approached—not Richard's, but a car that looked as if it was barely holding up. The windshield was cracked and there was a large dent on the passenger-side front door. The old trap rattled suspiciously until it stopped in front of the Buckets' house and backfired loudly.

Daisy, Onslow and Rose hurried out of the car and went immediately to the Buckets' front door. There was a long pause, and then the door clicked open. Less than five seconds later, it slammed shut again.

"I hope it's not about Rose's father again," Emmett said, sounding slightly concerned

He turned his attention back to Liz's car, staring hopelessly at the mess of wires and electronics under the hood.

"Do you two need a lift?" a cheerful voice asked. Emmett and Liz turned to see Onslow standing at the end of the end of the driveway.

"Well, where are you going?" Liz asked. "We don't want to inconvenience all of you. We were heading downtown."

"So are we," Onslow said, nodding toward his wife and his sisters-in-law, who were emerging from the _Bouquet_ residence. He added in a low voice:

"The police were given an anonymous tip that a man wearing a World War II uniform and wielding a bayonet stormed Title Page Books and tried to destroy the books in the military history section. The police knew right away who it was. Hyacinth and her sisters feel they need to go down to the bookstore to apologize and pay for the damages."

"So it was their father?" Emmett asked.

"Yes," Onslow nodded. "He must have done that on the day of your birthday, before he got to the bus stop."

Liz could not help saying, "Were you supposed to tell us all this?"

Onslow shrugged indifferently.

"Rose wanted me to tell you, Emmett. She didn't want you feeling concerned when you saw us arrive. The only time we ever go to Hyacinth's voluntarily is when there's trouble with their father."

At that moment, Rose hurried over, grinning widely.

"Having car trouble, you two?" Rose asked, noticing the raised hood.

"It won't start," Emmett said, and Rose looked delighted.

"You can get a ride with us!" she said cheerfully.

"Already asked 'em, Rose," Onslow said.

Emmett and Liz glanced at Onslow's fossil of a car and weren't sure what to say. Surely it couldn't fit Onslow, Hyacinth and her sisters, _and_ themselves.

"Onslow! Rose! Come along!" Hyacinth commanded from where she stood by the door of the car. She looked around worriedly, fearing that 'someone important' might see her in the vicinity of the battered vehicle.

"Well, what'ye say to a lift?" Onslow inquired.

"Will there be room?" Liz asked quickly, and Rose flashed a sly smile at Emmett.

"Oh, there will be room," she said with certainty.

Emmett and Liz followed Rose and Onslow to where Hyacinth and Daisy stood waiting. Hyacinth raised an inquiring eyebrow when she saw her neighbors accompanying her youngest sister and her brother-in-law.

Liz peered into the back seat. "I'm sure that there isn't room for all of us," she said, but Rose tossed her head in disagreement.

"Like I said, there will be room," she said bossily, and hurried a startled Liz and a disapproving Hyacinth into the back seat.

"I don't think—," Emmett began, standing by and exchanging a doubtful look with his sister.

Rose came up behind him and boldly shoved him into the last available seat. She then wiggled through the door and promptly sat on Emmett's knee, grinning wickedly when she saw his stunned expression.

"Is everyone ready?" Onslow called over his shoulder.

Rose slammed the passenger-side door shut.

"Oh, we're ready," she said saucily, and Onslow started the car.

Daisy turned around in her seat to see how the passengers in the rear were faring, and she smothered a smile as she saw the various expressions on their faces. Hyacinth looked mortified; Liz nervously unsure; Emmett flustered—and Rose looked positively triumphant.

"Is everyone all right?" Daisy asked as Onslow turned onto the main road into town. Only Rose answered.

"Oh, yes, we're doing _splendidly,_" she said with excessive sweetness. "Aren't we, Emmett?"

A hesitant but eager smile replaced Emmett's discomfited countenance; he did not notice, but Rose and Liz certainly took note. Liz looked bemused, and Rose hid a pleased smile. _Don't come on too strong. Not with Emmett, anyway,_ she told herself.

"Emmett," Hyacinth said suddenly, having recovered from her initial shock and embarrassment, "while you were away from your birthday soiree, Alice was telling me that you and your young students are rehearsing _Gone with the Wind_. If you need somebody to play the role of Ellen O'Hara, I would be willing. Just a favor between musically-inclined neighbors, you know."

"I've already got a promising young actress cast as Elleen," Emmett said hastily, wondering if it would be irreverent to tell the vicar's wife exactly what he thought of her telling Hyacinth about the rehearsal.

"But isn't Ellen an older woman?"

"She can play older than her age quite well," Emmett continued.

"I might be more suitable," Hyacinth insisted.

Glancing from Hyacinth to Emmett, Rose noted that the latter looked extremely exasperated. Who could blame him! Rose quickly interjected:

"With all due respect, Hyacinth, Ellen is a very difficult character to play. She's very gracious and warm, but also very reserved, collected and dignified," Rose said, as if reciting a character study. "You just don't seem the type that could emulate her well."

Hyacinth looked irritated, but Emmett gave Rose a grateful smile.

As they got into the main part of town, Onslow's car hit a speed bump and was jostled quite violently, unsettling the passengers in the rear.

"Suspension's shot," Onslow said apologetically. "Well, where would you two like to be dropped off?" he asked Emmett and Liz.

"The sooner, the better," Liz said quickly.

Onslow found a space at the curb and stopped. A very reluctant Rose opened the passenger-side door and, with some difficulty due to her confining mini-skirt, managed to wrench herself off of Emmett's knee and out of the car. While Emmett struggled out of the seat, Rose reached into her purse and surreptitiously wrote something on a small piece of paper.

"I really did like the ride," Rose said coquettishly, when Emmett was standing by her at the curb, poised to walk away. "We must do it again sometime."

Emmett chuckled awkwardly, feeling oddly flustered. He was saved from having to reply, for Hyacinth looked severely at Rose and hissed, "_Get in the car!_"

"Here," Rose said, handing the scrap of paper to Emmett, "if you need any help with your musical production, you can just call me. I've read _Gone with the Wind_ ten times, and I can give your students some insight into the characters, if you ever need it."

Her voice was now more friendly and informal than flirtatious, and Emmett courteously took the paper and thanked Rose for her offer.

"Rose!" Hyacinth said sharply, beckoning her youngest sister to the car.

Meanwhile, Liz had walked over to the driver's side door and was thanking Onslow. Daisy glanced at Emmett, who was standing stock-still and looking a bit overwhelmed. She turned to Liz, leaning past Onslow so that she could speak more easily.

"You might encourage Emmett to stop at a café for a cup of strong coffee," Daisy said sagely, nodding toward Emmett. "He looks a bit…_'over-Rosed'._"

Liz smiled knowingly.

"I certainly will suggest that to him," she said.

Onslow started the car, shifted it into gear, and did a U-turn, heading toward the police station. When the vehicle had turned the corner and disappeared, Emmett turned to his sister with a wry smile and said sardonically:

"All the time I was married, I never felt so close to anyone as I did today."

Liz gave him a provoking smile.

"You didn't seem to _dis_like the ride," she said craftily.

"Well, I couldn't just sit there and look annoyed," Emmett said lamely. "After all, Onslow was doing us a favor."

"Suuuure," Liz said, still grinning. "Whatever you say."


	4. Gone with the Wind

Two days after the memorable ride into town, on a misty, gray morning, Rose was humming happily as she started her car, which was just slightly more serviceable than Onslow's 'sardine can'. Her destination? The amateur operatic society's 'headquarters'. Emmett had called her the night before, asking her to help coach the students that were cast in _Gone with the Wind._ She had just enough time before her shift at Weatherby's to help out.

Rose smiled broadly as she drove. Emmett wanted her help! Yes, she really did hope that her coaching would help the students, but part of her (a big part of her, to be truthful) wondered if Emmett would show his gratitude by wanting to spend more time with her. Rose liked Emmett, with his droll sense of humor, his natural empathy, and his bemusing and honest view of Hyacinth.

Rose found the building, an unimposing, one-story brick structure. Bay windows and a door with an ornamental knocker suggested that this had once been a house. She went in and looked around. There was a central hall; to one side was what appeared to be an office, and to the other was a room with its door partly open.

Entering, Rose first saw a small stage at the back of the room. There were three girls and two boys standing on it, looking attentive. Then Rose heard Emmett speaking.

"I'm hoping we can get this recital off the ground by next Friday," he was saying, just as Rose entered the room.

"Good morning, Emmett," Rose greeted, joining Emmett at a piano that faced the stage.

"Good morning, Rose," Emmett said. His tone was pleasant but businesslike. "Students, this is Rose Granger. She's read _Gone with the Wind_ and has some advice for your acting."

A skinny brown-haired girl with piercing black eyes looked narrowly at Rose and put her hands on her hips.

"Why? What's so wrong with our acting that we need _outside_ help?" she demanded.

The girl was still looking at Rose but projected her words toward Emmett, as if blaming him for some non-existent insult.

"Even the best actors should always seek advice to improve themselves," Emmett said severely. "Rose, this girl is Mary Drew—she'll be playing Scarlett."

One by one he introduced the other students, and Rose nodded to each of them. When introductions had been made, Rose walked up to the stage and looked at Mary, whose expression was slightly haughty. Never mind that. Mary needed coaching, whether she liked it or not.

"Mary, what's your biggest challenge when you're trying to emulate Scarlett?" Rose asked politely.

"Nothing, really," Mary sniffed proudly, but she was quelled by Rose's pointed, unflinching gaze.

"All right, I'm finding it hard to make her seem as bold as she's supposed to be," Mary admitted grudgingly.

Rose nodded in understanding.

"You see, Mary," she explained pleasantly, "Scarlett is sly and manipulative. Only Rhett Butler can see that; in a way, they're both the same—they know what they want, and don't care who or what they have to trample to get it. So try to put more of a 'bitch' attitude in it—if you'll excuse the word."

Mary smiled briefly, but her tone was still slightly stiff as she added, "Thank you for that tip. I never thought of it that way before."

Rose turned to Larissa Vaughn, who was playing Melanie Wilkes (_nee _Hamilton). Larissa's attitude was much more pleasant than Mary's, for she smiled pleasantly as she explained her problem. Melanie Wilkes, Larissa opined, seemed very one-dimensional and flat as a character.

Larissa—as well as the other students—had read assigned selections from the book, but of course that didn't give them a full window into their characters.

"If _Gone with the Wind_ wasn't such a large tome, I'd have all of you read the entire book," Rose said. "However, I know all of you want to do the recital as soon as possible. Anyway, Larissa, there is much more to Melanie than most people think…"

**…**

"Well, everyone," Rose said an hour later, "I have to go work—just keep at it, everyone. Remember what I told you, but don't overthink it!"

"Thank you, Miss Granger," Mary said in a much more polite tone. The others also thanked Rose.

"No problem at all," Rose said. She went back to Emmett, who had been sitting still at the piano and watching Rose coaching the students. There had been some improvement in that short hour, especially with Larissa.

"I think things will only improve more," Rose told Emmett. "I'm sure that by next Friday, we'll be seeing a splendid production."

Emmett smiled gratefully at Rose, but his tone was again businesslike as he replied, "You've been very helpful, Rose."

"Well, if you ever need more help, let me know," Rose said.

Emmett nodded, but turned his attention back to his students. Well, that was that—Emmett really _wasn't_ interested in her…_yet._

Rose glanced at her watch. If she didn't hurry, she would be late for work.

**…**

The night of the recital finally arrived. Because the amateur operatic society's instructional building was so small, the recital would be performed on the stage in the church hall.

In the back of the stage, the cast members were in a state of strained excitement. Rose, who had come an hour before the start of the show, was there to give them a few last tips and also keep them as calm as possible. Mary Drew paced back and forth, half-singing, half-muttering her lines over and over until Rose gently scolded her.

"Just envision yourself stepping onto the stage. Don't think about your lines anymore; just imagine confidently walking on stage."

"Easier said than done," Mary said, morosely but politely.

"I know," Rose said understandingly. "Nerves will always come with things like this. Trust me, I know—I was in the choir in high school and did many recitals."

Emmett arrived at that moment to tell Mary to take the stage in five minutes. Rose gave her one more encouraging smile and then exited via the back of the stage. Some of the older audience members looked toward her with disapproving expressions as she went to get a front row seat. Rose knew they disapproved of her attire, a gauzy black miniskirt and high heels that accented her legs. She tilted her head proudly and gave a haughty smile. Why should they care how she dressed?

A few minutes later, Mary stepped onto the stage, looking pale and nervous. From behind the curtain, Emmett began to play the background melody of the first song, but Mary stood frozen. Rose had her fingers crossed, hoping that 'Scarlett' would remember the coaching.  
"The winds of Tara blow, across the land I love…" Mary at last began to sing.

Her voice trembled for at first, but a moment later, she stood up straighter, a confident expression replacing the nervous look in her eyes; the color returned to her cheeks.

An hour and a half later, the show ended and the audience broke into wild applause. _Every_ student had done brilliantly, especially Mary. To some, it was 'just' a recital for music students in a small hamlet of England, but it would be a beginning of great things for Mary. In fifteen years, she would be cast as Madame Giry in the West End production of _The Phantom of the Opera,_ and she would go only higher from there.

"There's somebody I'd like to thank," Emmett said when the audience finished applauding. "Rose, would you come up here?"

Rose looked up, startled. Emmett was standing in the center of the stage, smiling at her.

"Everyone, this is Rose Granger," Emmett said when Rose was standing next to him. "She's been coaching our brilliant students, and as you can see, she's been a great help!"

The audience clapped politely. Rose nodded in acknowledgement and headed backstage, where the actresses and actors—yes, they had been more than students this night—were recovering.

Mary turned around, saw Rose coming, and a broad smile came over her face.

"Miss Granger, thank you, _thank_ you so much!" she exclaimed, her dark eyes sparkling with excitement. "I couldn't have done it without your help!"

"Nonsense, Mary," Rose said humbly. "It was ultimately up to _you_ to put my coaching in practice. I was just helping."

"If you say so!"

Mary turned to her comrades.

"I want all of you to come to my house, and I'll order a pizza. I don't know about all of you, but I'm starved!"

The others murmured in agreement and filed out of the church hall. Now only Rose was standing backstage, until someone spoke behind her, causing her to jump.

"Sorry, Rose, it's just me," Emmett said as Rose turned around. Rose grinned like a cat eying its prey.

"That was absolutely spiffing," Emmett said.

Rose agreed wholeheartedly, saying:

"I was proud of all of them. I can really see why you love the work that you do."

"Well, I think you had a lot to do with it," Emmett said. He paused and then continued:

"I _am_ very grateful for your help. What do you say to dinner? To celebrate, you know."

What Onslow called her 'vampiric' expression flickered across Rose's face for a moment, but she quickly changed it to a casual smile. (Onslow had invented the word 'vampiric'—meaning 'similar to or reminiscent of a vampire').

"Yes, I'd like that," Rose said eagerly.

**…**

Sitting down to dinner at an Italian restaurant, Rose and Emmett discussed the night's production. The food was good, the atmosphere cheery, and once again they found themselves chatting as casually and easily as if they were lifelong friends.

"How did you manage to help Mary calm down? She tends to be on the nervous side," Emmett said. "I mean, Mary's a very good singer—she just tends to start out more nervously than the others."

"I just told her what I knew from personal experience. I used be in choir in my sophomore year of high school. I did a _lot_ of recitals. But when Mummy died a year later, I stopped."

Emmett looked surprised. "So you've sung before?" he asked. "I'd like to hear you sing."

"Here?" Rose raised an eyebrow, and Emmett laughed.

"No, of course not _here,_" he said, bemused. "You're an odd one, Rose."

This sounded like a uniquely veiled compliment, and Rose's eyes brightened. She gazed across the table at Emmett, who suddenly looked down and began dissecting the chicken marina with a fork. Rose gazed at Emmett in bemusement until he looked up again.

"Maybe you can drop by the operatic society and sing a piece for our students," Emmett suggested.

"Maybe," Rose said dubiously. "I've been _years_ out of practice, though."

Emmett let the subject drop, and the conversation turned to other topics; half an hour later, they finished their meal and rose to go their separate ways.

"I really enjoyed tonight," Rose said, drawing closer to Emmett as they walked to the door, looking more flirtatious than ever. "And _you said_ you didn't want to go out again."

"Just a little celebration for a successful evening," Emmett said quickly, but Rose smirked.

"As if!" she crowed, with a saucy wink. "Remember last Christmas? And when we were at the Cherry Blossom? And don't tell me you disliked that ride into town."

"I couldn't refuse Onslow's kind gesture," Emmett hastily objected. "And when I took you to the café? That was a friendly favor for a fellow being on the road of life. I couldn't just let you feel miserable all night! As for that kiss at Christmas, it was caused by overexcitement and a little too much sherry."

"'A fellow being on the road of life'…so poetic and non-clichéd," Rose teased, giggling, but she could not let go of her current train of thought. "You protest too much! I think you _like_ me!"

Emmett looked at Rose; her eyes were glinting with unchecked vivaciousness, her smile broad, with a saucy uplift in one corner of her lips. She seemed so alive, glowing and utterly like no other woman he'd met. He quickly dropped his gaze when he realized he was staring, but Rose had noticed.

"You _do_ like me, don't you?" Rose persisted as they exited the restaurant.

"My dear," Emmett said flatly, "I don't give a damn."


	5. The Semi-Fancy Dress Ball

"How was work, Rose?" Daisy asked as Rose trooped into the living room one early Saturday evening.

"_In_sane!" Rose exclaimed. "It's summer vacation time, and with kids out of school, it's a madhouse on weekends. How could our little hamlet have such a relatively high population of children?"

"No idea," Daisy said. She looked toward her husband. "Maybe Onslow knows. You studied statistics in high school, didn't you, Onslow?"

"Hello? Rhetorical question!" Rose exclaimed, and then continued:

"I really don't mind, though. I like the challenge of working. I'd rather be super busy than just sitting around all the time."

Rose paused abruptly and glanced at her sister, who was haplessly sprawled out on the sofa.

"No offense, Daisy," Rose said quickly. "Just _my_ personal choice."

"I'm not offended. I accept that I'm bone idle, work shy and out of condition," Daisy said cheerfully.

"Onslow, too," Rose snorted, with a wicked grin.

Onslow looked up from a thick textbook titled _The Structure of Matter._

"Damn proud of it, too. Gives a bloke time to reflect upon what really matters. Why do we exist? What does the universe mean to us?"

Rose was about to make a sarcastic retort when the telephone shrilled.

"That must be for you, our Rose," Daisy said. "Probably another chap asking you to come back to him."

"Probably," Rose muttered, walking over to the telephone. She picked up the receiver with none of her usual enthusiasm.

"Hello? Who's this?" Rose demanded, and a frown quickly replaced the neutral expression on her face.

"Not again, Mr. Jenkins! Look, I said I didn't want to hear from you anymore!"—pause—"Yes, I know you haven't _done_ anything to me. I just haven't been dating _anyone_, so don't take it so personally!"—another pause—"Yeah, well _you're_ not _me_, so don't judge what I say!"—a final pause, longer this time—"This is the last time you'll call? Good!"-pause-"I accept that ultimatum! Goodbye...forever, and bog off!"

Rose let the receiver down with a bang, her brown eyes flashing in outrage.

"Scorned another one, eh, Rose?" Onslow said snidely. "To be truthful, I'm a bit frightened. It's been nearly two months and you've been turning down men left and right! The universe is out of order!"

"Bog off, Onslow!" Rose snapped, and she joined Daisy on the sofa. Rose tried to read _All Quiet on the Western Front_, but she couldn't concentrate on the story, as interesting as it was. Rose felt oddly discomfited, as if there was something that she wanted but couldn't have…

The telephone shrilled again, breaking into Rose's reverie.

"Rose, another customer!" Onslow shouted. Rose did not rise to the bait this time, much to Onslow's disappointment.

"Hello?" Rose said, somewhat aggressively, but a moment later her face lit up with a wide smile.

"_Emmett?_ This is a surprise! How are you?"—there was a long pause, and Rose said incredulously—"_Really?_ Do you mean it?"—another pause, and Rose laughed. "All right, keep your hair on. I know you wouldn't ask me if you didn't mean it. I was just a little surprised, since we haven't talked since the recital."

Daisy listened curiously to this exchange until the very end.

"…Of course I'll go! I'll be ready by the very moment you pick me up. Goodbye!"

Rose put down the receiver and danced back to the sofa. Without a word to or a glance at Daisy, she once again sat next to her sister, picking up her book and trying to make it appear that she was reading, but Daisy knew Rose well enough to see that she was only pretending.

"What was that all about, Rose?" Daisy asked, knowing that her sister was just waiting for such an inquiry.

"Emmett wants me to go to the charity ball him next week! You know, the one held at the town hall every year."

Daisy looked surprised. "That's jolly nice of him!" she exclaimed.

"I know," Rose said quietly. "I wonder if…if this might be the start of something serious."

"Oh, all the men are _serious_ about you," Onslow said significantly, laughing at his own joke. "We _all_ know that."

Rose actually sounded hurt when she replied.

"Not _that_ kind of serious! I'm just wondering if…maybe Emmett wants to get to know me for who I really am."

Daisy looked at Rose gravely and in a flash of sisterly intuition she said, "Is that why you haven't been with other men since the day Daddy ran off? Are you trying to change?"

Rose understood what Daisy was saying, but it was a long time before she nodded in affirmation.

"Yes," she said soberly. "I don't want to be _that_ kind of girl anymore. If Emmett _is_ interested in a relationship, I want him to know that I'll be committed to him."

Daisy gave her sister a supportive smile and Rose knew that she understood completely.

**…**

The next week, two hours before the ball, Rose was searching through her closet for something appropriate to wear. The dress code for the event was 'semi-formal'. Rose rifled through a large assortment of miniskirts, knowing that she had a few pretty dresses somewhere in the back. At last she found them. Ever the fashionista, Rose found it difficult to decide which dress to wear. Eventually, however, she narrowed it down to two choices.

One dress was pale peach poplin, with close-fitting sleeves to the elbow and a flattering scooped neck. The other was a strapless, black velvet dress with an embroidered pattern of blue swirls, and it had a flounced taffeta skirt that just touched her knees. After half an hour of intense debate, Rose decided on the black dress. Black faux-alligator pumps completed the ensemble.

Rose dressed, and then she stumbled downstairs in a fit of nervous excitement. There was only half an hour left to wait, but Rose was on edge. Time seemed to be going by very slowly.

At last, at exactly six o'clock, a car horn sounded outside, and Rose skipped out of the door. There was Emmett, standing by the car that Liz so generously let him borrow. Emmett opened the passenger side door for Rose and smiled as he did so.

"You look splendid, Rose," he said sincerely.

"Thank you," Rose said, beaming. "You're looking sharp," she added, and he did, in a crisp, blue linen shirt, red silk tie and pressed gray slacks.

"It's one-hundred percent Hyacinth-approved," Emmett said as he turned onto the street that led out of Rose's neighborhood.

"Does Hyacinth know we're going to the dance?" Rose asked.

"Hyacinth knows we're going," Emmett said. "She heard it through Liz, though—I'm not ready to talk to Hyacinth voluntarily. Not yet, anyway."

Rose chuckled at his frankness. "So are she and Richard going as well?"

"Oh, no," Emmett said as they approached town hall. He did a surprisingly accurate mock-up of Hyacinth's voice:

"'We appreciate that the ball is for charity, but Richard and I like to be _exclusive_. Anyone can attend the ball if they have the money".

Rose laughed so hard that she nearly choked. When she had recovered, Emmett was pulling up to the curb in front of the town hall. He too was laughing heartily as he opened the car door for Rose.

"I like that," he said. "'_We_ like to be exclusive'. There's no 'we' in it, I can guarantee."

Rose and Emmett walked into the town hall; Emmett showed his tickets at the door and they were escorted into a large room that was usually used for conferences. Chairs and tables had been removed, and the room was beautifully decorated.

"How lovely!" Rose exclaimed, looking around the room and taking it all in.

Chandeliers glittered above, tall potted plants in the corners were hung with strands of sparkling white lights, and a long table of refreshments had a centerpiece of tall white candles in a crystal candelabra.

"Worthy of a candlelight supper," Emmett snickered.

"_Better,_" Rose snickered. "Maybe I'll say that to Hyacinth…if I want to die."

A few minutes later, all of the guests had assembled. The mayor and his wife arrived, and the doors to the conference-room-turned-ballroom were closed. The mayor went to a podium and said a few words.

"I won't bore all of you with a long talk," the mayor said. "I am glad go see the turnout, as this is all for a good cause—and a good time. So...everyone may start dancing!" he ended with a smile.

The first song was an instrumental piece— American big band's legendary, 'In the Mood', by the equally legendary Benny Goodman. Fast-paced, with a varying rhythm, it had everyone dancing, twirling, swooping, or, in Emmett's case—being dragged all around the dance floor by Rose. In playful 'revenge', Emmett gave Rose such an energetic twirl that she nearly tripped on her own feet, but Emmett steadied her.

"How very gentlemanly of you," Rose teased, panting.

The next song, 'Scarborough Fair', was now playing, and it was a relief to dance to the much slower, more relaxed song.

"Ouch!" Rose said, as Emmett stepped on her foot. "How can you step on my foot when we're dancing so slowly?"

"Sorry," Emmett said, and waltzed across the room with Rose. He was startled to realize that he had been looking into her shining eyes all this time and not really paying attention to where he was going—especially when he blindly bumped into someone. Emmett turned to apologize, and was chagrined to see that he had run into the Vicar.

"Sorry, Vicar," Emmett muttered.

"No problem at all," Michael said cheerfully.

Rose accidentally caught Alice's eye and felt a twinge of guilt. Rose wished that she had never pursued the vicar, who was unfailingly loyal to his wife. Rose thought that she ought to apologize to Alice—but this was neither the time nor the place.

Another song was starting; one of Ella Fitzgerald's lively jazz songs. Rose and Emmett spun and skipped shamelessly around the ballroom.

"Do you think we look dignified, dancing like this at our age?" Rose giggled, panting.

"Now, don't sound like Hyacinth," Emmett said.

The song ended and another began, but Emmett suggested that he and Rose take a break to enjoy some punch and 'light refreshments'. Thus, they 'sat out' of two songs, but Rose perked up when a very familiar melody started and she nearly wrenched Emmett's arm off as she dragged him onto the dance floor, just as the lyrics began.

_It's a little bit funny, this feelin' inside_

_I'm not one that can easily hide…_

"That's Elton John's signature song," Emmett said, as soon as Rose had let him out of a vise grip. "He's got a wonderful voice. I guess you really like this song?"

Rose had a dreamy smile on her face. "It's my very favorite song," she said softly as she and Emmett slowly danced yet again. "I think it's sweet."

Emmett looked into Rose's eyes and was startled to see the warmth that softly glowed in them. He had never seen her like this before. Rose's eyes seemed to reach right into his soul. Almost unconsciously, he recalled the first verse of the song.

_It's a little bit funny, this feelin' inside_

_I'm not one of those who can easily hide…_

_What _am _I feeling?_ Emmett thought. _It couldn't be—could it?—that I'm starting to _love_ Rose?_

"Hello? Emmett! Are you there?" he heard Rose saying.

"Mmm?" Emmett said, startled out of his thoughts.

"You suddenly stopped dancing. Are you feeling alright?"

"Oh…yes…I'm fine," Emmett said quickly.

'Your Song' was still playing. As he and Rose continued dancing, Emmett found himself listening closely to the lyrics. Why was this song suddenly so captivating to him? Was it just the romance of the lyrics…or were the words bringing out feelings in him that he had never expected?

_So excuse me forgetting, but these things I do_

_You see, I've forgotten if they're green or they're blue_

_Anyway, the thing is, what I really mean_

_Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen._

"You have such beautiful eyes, Rose," Emmett said softly, surprising himself with his own words.

Rose was startled at this lovely compliment.

"Oh…thank you," Rose said, vexed to find herself blushing.

She couldn't remember the last time a man had given her a gentle compliment like that, and she suddenly realized that Emmett appreciated her not for her body, but—as she had dreamed—for whom she really was. It was a wonderful feeling, one that almost made her dizzy. What Emmett said next, however, was an even bigger surprise for Rose.

"Rose, I…I really like you," he said awkwardly. "I was wondering if you'd, well, like to keep seeing each other?"

Rose was thrilled. She had been hoping that Emmett would ask this of her at some point, but after he had brushed off her 'accusations' that he really did like her, Rose had assumed that Emmett would never see her as more than the woman he had comforted on the day that Daddy ran off and who had helped him with his students' production of _Gone with the Wind_.

"Do you mean it?" Rose said softly.

"Yes, i_f_ you're willing to commit."

There was a significant tone in Emmett's voice that Rose immediately understood.

"I get what you're saying," Rose said solemnly. "Emmett, I haven't been with anyone since that day you were so kind to me, just being there for me as I talked about Father. I can promise you that from now on, I'll _never_ be with anyone but you. Even if we stop dating, I don't want to return to my old lifestyle. I don't want to be 'that kind of girl' anymore."

Emmett looked searchingly into her eyes.

"I believe you," he said earnestly, and Rose looked triumphant.

"Ha! You _do_ like me!" she said gleefully. "I _told_ you that you've been protesting too much."

Laughing at his past denial, Emmett brought Rose back onto the dance floor, and they stayed until the formal closing of the ball, dancing their way through a dizzying variety of songs. Neither of them had had such a delightful, enjoyable night for a very long time. By the time Rose and Emmett were filing out of the town hall, both were practically giddy.

"Tonight was fantastic," Rose said enthusiastically as Emmett pulled up to the curb in front of her house.

"Fun, but tiring," Emmett opined. "It was worth it, though. I can't remember the last time I had so much fun!"

"Me neither," Rose said, unbuckling her seatbelt. Before she exited the car, Rose kissed Emmett's cheek, catching him by surprise.

"Goodbye for now, Rose!" Emmett said, smiling foolishly.

Rose smiled back at him before she navigated the minefield that served as a path to the council house. When Rose was safely inside, Emmett made his own way home.

It truly had been a magical evening. Things looked very promising for Emmett and Rose.


	6. A Month of Changes

The night at the charity ball had completely changed Rose's attitude toward life, though it did not snuff her quirky, impulsive, high-spirited nature. Before, she had just careened through what she had thought was love, from one man to another. She had taken vain pride in her 'unequaled power over men', as Onslow put it. There were her brief 'flings'; they had occupied her time, but in the end Rose only had the drama to hold onto when yet another man left her (admittedly, Rose thought in shame for the first time, a large number of them had been married). Rose had enjoyed, in a masochistic way, the disappointment and sadness after the multiple breakups.

But that was in the past. That was the 'old Rose'. There was freshness to life that she had not experienced for _years,_ and she woke up almost every morning with a smile. No more dramatic telephone conversations with her 'gentleman friends' (which was disappointing for Onslow; now he had no material with which to goad Rose, which was one of his favorite activities). Gone were the wild, theatrical breakups. Rose devoted herself to Emmett, even if it did not end up a permanent relationship. But that, of course, was for Emmett to decide.

Instead, there were many enjoyable times with Emmett (no, not what you're thinking, thank you very much). Everyone in their families noticed the change in Rose—and Emmett as well…

**…**

"I've never been horseback riding before," Rose said to Emmett on a crisp, cool morning. The sky was blue and completely clear of clouds, the sun gentle, and the air smelled sweet. It was a perfect day for riding in the country.

Rose and Emmett walked into the stable yard, where a groom brought two horses to them.

"For the lady," said the brightly smiling elderly gentleman, and he indicated a dainty gray mare, which had bright, spirited eyes but was perfectly gentle. Rose smiled as the mare snuffled into her hand and tossed her gray mane, as if approving of her.

"Need a hand, Miss?" the groom asked, but Rose leapt lightly into the saddle and even adjusted the stirrups herself. The elderly man looked surprised.

"Have you ridden before?" he asked as Emmett mounted a black gelding.

"No, never," Rose said.

"Hmm!" was all that the genteel groom said, and then he gave Rose and Emmett some instructions.

"Stay on the main trail. You can trot or gallop if you're confident about it, but let the horses warm up first."

A few minutes later, Rose and Emmett were riding on a smooth, sandy trail with stands of oaks and maples on either side. Birds were singing happily, and a delightful breeze was gently swirling in the air.

"I have to tell you that you'll find quite amusing," Emmett said sneakily, "but you must _never_ let Hyacinth know that you know it."

"Oh?" Rose said, immediately interested, so as they rode along, Emmett told the story.

"Remember when Hyacinth and Richard bought that tiny flat in—where was that—oh, it was called Marston Hall. Liz and I were invited for tea, and we set out a little earlier than we meant to. Well, on the country road, we crossed paths with Hyacinth and Richard's car. To cut to the chase, we both ended up pulling over because Hyacinth signaled us to do so. I think Hyacinth wanted to show off her 'country ensemble'—jodphurs, boots, a tweed jacket. She was even carrying a riding crop! I _knew _she'd never ridden before—so I had this brilliant idea—which Liz completely disapproved of, of course…"

So Rose listened with great enjoyment as Emmett told of tricking Hyacinth into a ride in the countryside, which of course did not go well.

"It was amazing, watching the horse tear away with Hyacinth on its back," Emmett reflected. "I don't feel guilty for finding that rather entertaining, because Hyacinth didn't get hurt falling into the soft grass in the field. _Liz_ gave me a scolding, though, about 'schadenfreude'. Oh, but it was worth it! Made up for a dozen candlelight suppers and several instances of her 'singing at me'."

Rose laughed shamelessly at her eldest sister's misfortune.

"Remember, no telling!" Emmett said.

"Oh, I won't say anything," Rose said. "She'd probably deny it, anyway."

"Well, speaking of running horses," Emmett changed the subject, "why don't we have a race? The finish line will be that spindly oak up there."

"I accept the challenge," Rose said proudly. "I _never_ back down from a challenge!"

"Full gallop?" Emmett asked, and Rose grinned wickedly.

"Full gallop," she agreed.

"Ready?"

"Damn straight."

"Then…go!"

Rose urged the gray mare, which the groom had called 'Mockingbird', into a fast trot. Emmett, Rose noted, had already pushed his horse into a gallop.

"Come on, Mockingbird, we can do it," Rose whispered. She kept up the fast trot for a few more feet, and then leaned over Mockingbird's neck, gave a gentle nudge with her heels, and the gray mare took off. Halfway to the 'finish line', Rose and Mockingbird flashed past Emmett. Rose shook her fist in a sign of victory as her willing little mare past the wizened oak.

"That's a girl, Mockingbird!" Rose praised, slowing the mare to a walk. Ten seconds later, Emmett and the black gelding came toward them, not galloping, but trotting.

"I think I won!" Rose gloated. "Pace your horse, Emmett. Pace your horse. I never imagined that watching horse racing with Onslow would come in handy."

"Such a humble winner," Emmett said, bemused. "You've got a little more of Hyacinth in you than you think!"

**…**

These happy times weren't only in Binley Woods and the surrounding countryside. Very early one morning, on a day that promised to be pleasantly warm and sunny, Rose and Emmett went to London. Rose insisted on driving the two hours into the city.

"It can't be the _man_ driving all the time," Rose had insisted.

Rose and Emmett explored main London, taking a good amount of time in Harrods's Department Store, and then eating at a corner restaurant that served hearty, traditional English food. Rose enjoyed a good portion of steak and kidney pie, and finished it off with a large knickerbocker glory. After she'd finished the last bit of ice cream and strawberries, she sat back and looked regretfully at the empty plate and glass.

"I'll have to take a good jog in the morning to work this off," she said with a grin.

"Oh, you don't look as if you need to worry about a bit of indulgence now and then," Emmett said, smiling. "You _have_ kept your figure."

After paying for their check, Rose and Emmett headed to the magnificent and expansive Royal Botanical Gardens. The sun was warm but gentle, and Rose and Emmett strolled through gardens and greenhouses, admiring every plant from sunflowers to Venus fly-traps. Inevitably they wound up in the rose garden.

"I think roses are the prettiest flowers," Rose said of her namesake.

Emmett laughed in a friendly way.

"I'm sure you're not biased at all," he teased.

"Maybe, maybe not," Rose said with a grin. "They really are beautiful, though."

She gently touched a pink rose's silky petals. Emmett looked affectionately at Rose; she made a beautiful picture, her eyes soft and happy as she bent over her namesake, her silky blonde hair falling to her shoulders.

"Liz has some very lovely rosebushes in her front garden," Emmett said when Rose was standing next to him again. "Once I overheard Hyacinth ask Richard why _their_ roses weren't as large as hers. 'They're a different kind of rose', Richard said, but of course Hyacinth didn't listen."

Emmett grinned mischievously and once again put on an excellent imitation of Hyacinth's voice.

" 'Are you using the best fertilizer, Richard? Surely our roses wouldn't be so small if you were using the best fertilizer!'"

Rose laughed outright until tears came to her eyes.

"Oh, I know I shouldn't laugh at that, Hyacinth being my sister and all," she gasped. "But I will!"

"I like that about you, Rose," Emmett said. "You never pretend to be someone you aren't. You're just—you."

Not five seconds later, Rose suddenly found herself caught up in Emmett's arms; he looked at her for a moment, and then kissed her, quickly but affectionately.

"Why, Emmett!" Rose exclaimed in surprise. Emmett released her from his arms and looked chagrined.

"I'm sorry, Rose. I should have asked," he said apologetically, but Rose smiled warmly.

"That's more than alright!" she said, her eyes narrowing with that eager, delighted look that she had perfected. "I didn't mind at all."

"I'm glad," Emmett said, giving Rose a tight hug, and then his next words caused Rose to tremble in surprised delight.

"Rose, I think…scratch that…I _know_…I love you."

**…**

A month passed, and Rose and Emmett were inseparable. Rose's romantically confused and troubled past life seemed very far away. For weeks she had been turning down telephone calls from her eager 'gentleman' friends, those who wanted second (or third, or even fourth) chances. Despite his previous words, even Mr. Jenkins called again, but Rose tore into him so angrily that there was a long silence at the other end.

"Tricky little bitch, aren't you?" Mr. Jenkins said at last. "This is the first time a woman's rejected me like this! Ah, well, don't come crawling back to me and expect me to take up with you again!"

"Good riddance," Rose muttered after Mr. Jenkins had abruptly cut off the call. Not too long ago, something like this would have sent Rose into one of her half-furious, half-depressed dramatics, but now she could laugh about it. Who needed that Mr. Jenkins—or anyone else—when she had Emmett?

"I'm assuming the bloke finally gave up?" Onslow turned away from the television for a moment.

Rose smiled triumphantly.

"Damn straight," she said, retreating to the sofa to primly file her fingernails.

"Daisy," Rose said when she finished making sure that her fingernails were perfectly filed, "should I use this nail polish,"—she held up a bottle of shimmering silver nail polish—"or this,"—now showing her sister a bottle of dark pink nail polish.

Daisy glanced at the bottles and yawned.

"I think they're both nice," she said lazily, and returned to her book.

Rose swatted playfully at her sister.

"A lot of help you are," she said, and then glanced up at the wall clock that hung over the television. "Six o'clock! I need to hurry!"

"For what?" Daisy asked.

"I must've forgotten to tell you, but Emmett and I are going to the Cherry Blossom again. We've been 'officially' dating for a whole month now," Rose said happily. "But we both think our night at the Cherry Blossom was when it all began."


	7. A Month of Transitions

Rose and Emmett's first month of dating faded into the second, and they were more inseparable than ever. Liz and Daisy often joked that their respective siblings hardly even lived at home anymore; indeed, they spent much of their free time together.

Even the 'mandatory' candlelight suppers were more bearable for Emmett, as he always brought Rose with him. Rose and Emmett frequently engaged oft-nervous Liz in such enjoyable conversation that she handled Hyacinth's treasured Royal Doulton china perfectly.

The vicar and Alice also came to every candlelight supper, as Hyacinth had a knack for making them feel obligated to attend. This had made things uncomfortable the first time Rose and Emmett had gone to a candlelight supper together, but Hyacinth had tactfully arranged for them to be at one end of the table and Michael and Alice at the other, reducing the tension of the situation. Rose often meant to find an opportunity to apologize to Alice in private, but she could not quite summon the courage.

**…**

As their 'three month anniversary' approached, Rose and Emmett went to the 'Daylight Dance', a well-enjoyed event open to the public. The dance was held at the expansive gardens that surrounded the mansion of Mrs. Fortescue, one of Rose's close friends.

Mrs. Fortescue, an elderly heiress, had organized the Daylight Dance because of her fond memories of the garden parties she had hosted as a young wife. Mr. Fortescue had passed away two decades before, but Mrs. Fortescue felt that she was also honoring him with this event. How much he had enjoyed the garden parties!

Despite the vast difference of age and status, Rose and Mrs. Fortescue got along splendidly. Mrs. Fortescue, for all her wealth, had none of Hyacinth's superior airs. She liked Rose, Daisy and Onslow, the family that Hyacinth had once tried to hide from her.

On the day of the dance, Rose slipped into a new dress she had bought. It was a glossy, tea-length, mint-green challis that flattered her figure without being immodest. Around the waist she loosely tied a black velvet sash.

Daisy approved of the dress heartily, and Rose sailed out of the council house to where Emmett was standing by his and Liz's car. He smiled in admiration as Rose approached.

"You look absolutely splendid, Rose," Emmett said as Rose got into the car.

"Why, thank you," Rose said, pleased at the compliment.

The drive to Mrs. Fortescue's estate was fairly long, but pleasant, and soon enough Emmett pulled into the driveway that fronted the imposing brick mansion. Mrs. Fortescue herself took them around to the back. A large, beautiful green lawn, surrounded by rose bushes and beds of mums and daffodils, delighted Rose.

"It's absolutely beautiful, Mrs. Fortescue," she said.

"I've always liked flowers," Mrs. Fortescue said. "I used to work in the garden myself, until I got too old in the bones to do it. I do have a splendid gardener, though, as you can see. By the way, you haven't introduced this young man," she added, looking toward Emmett.

Rose smiled. "This is Emmett—Hyacinth's neighbor. We've been dating for almost three months."

"Hyacinth's neighbor!" Mrs. Fortescue exclaimed. "Oh, you poor man."

Emmett laughed.

"Yes, Rose was telling me that Hyacinth once tried to impress you. But however did you two meet? Rose hasn't told me the story yet."

"That's because I want Mrs. Fortescue to help me tell it," Rose said with a grin, and Mrs. Fortescue smiled.

"Why don't we entertain Emmett with that amusing tale now? Unless you to want to dance first," the elderly heiress said, but Emmett very much wanted to hear the story.

Rose, Emmett and Mrs. Fortescue sat at a table in a quiet corner of the lawn. Mrs. Fortescue gave a command to her butler, and he came out with a large platter of sandwiches and a bottle of fine wine.

"Eat, drink, be merry," Mrs. Fortescue said.

After all three had eaten their fill, Rose and Mrs. Fortescue had Emmett laughing shamelessly as they told the story of how they'd met. Mrs. Fortescue showed no mercy, though she was not unkind, in giving her opinion about Hyacinth and her desperate attempts to impress her.

"I really do like this chap, Rose," Mrs. Fortescue said sincerely a few minutes later. "Stay with this one."

"Oh, I will," Rose said, smiling at Emmett.

"You two young people get along now," Mrs. Fortescue commanded, waving toward the center of the lawn. Only a few guests were in attendance, but the atmosphere was merry, and Mrs. Fortescue had even hired a professional piano player for the event.

"You should be playing the piano," Rose teased as the pianist began to play the 'Clair De Lune'. "You could probably play better."

"Then I couldn't dance with you," Emmett said, smiling softly.

He took Rose into his arms and they danced across the expansive lawn. Once again they only had eyes for each other—that is, until Emmett felt a hard rap on his shoulder. Both he and Rose stopped abruptly. They turned to see Mrs. Fortescue standing before them, smiling mischievously.

"Mrs. Fortescue!" Rose pretended to reprimand the elderly lady. "Be nice to Emmett!"

"Oh, I like to tease," Mrs. Fortescue said, her eyes twinkling at Emmett, who was rubbing his shoulder where he had been hit with the walking stick. "I won't do it again."

"I should hope not," Emmett said, but an amused smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

"All right, you two get back to dancing," Mrs. Fortescue urged, and Rose and Emmett were more than happy to oblige.

The afternoon passed almost too quickly. When the Daylight Dance concluded and the other guests had left, Rose and Emmett stayed behind, chatting with the elderly heiress. Emmett could not help liking Mrs. Fortescue, despite her penchant for wielding her walking stick.

Mrs. Fortescue's parting words were directed at Rose.

"Remember what I said, dear—stay with this one," she said solemnly, winking at Emmett.

"If you don't,"—Emmett said, with a sneaky smile at Rose—"I'll have this sensible woman give you a good whack with her walking stick."

Rose and Emmett then parted regretfully, promising Mrs. Fortescue that they would meet with her another time. As it was still daylight, Emmett insisted on taking Rose to a locally famous ice cream parlor.

"Absolutely delicious ice cream—you have to try it," Emmett said.

Thus, Rose and Emmett spent an enjoyable half-hour lingering over generous helpings of ice cream. As they ate, Emmett requested that Rose once again tell the story of how she had met Mrs. Fortescue, and he laughed as heartily as he had when hearing the legend for the first time.

When they had finished, Emmett suggested walking around downtown.

"Can't have enough time with me, can you?" Rose teased, but she happily accepted his suggestion.

They left the ice cream shop and wandered around, looking at the shops and making idle conversation. Rose insisted on spending an entire half-hour at Title Page Books and walked out with what looked like half of the shop's inventory.

The pair had scarcely gotten back to the street when Rose saw a man coming toward them—an all too familiar man. Sharp-dressed, with a distinctive face, he stopped when he was just a few feet away from the approaching couple.

_Oh, no, not Mr. Jenkins,_ Rose thought, feeling eerily uneasy.

" 'Ello, Rose! How are you?" Mr. Jenkins said when Rose and Emmett started to pass by. His tone was suspiciously cheerful.

"What do you mean, 'ello, Rose'?" Rose demanded, stopping short. There was fire in her eyes. "It's been months since I've seen you. Maybe you've forgotten, but I told you I don't give a damn about you anymore."

Emmett smiled bemusedly at this exchange. Rose certainly was a firecracker of a woman. _Nobody_ intimidated Rose Granger!

But this time, however, Rose's hot words would be her downfall. Mr. Jenkins's expression changed, and Rose was immediately on edge.

"Well, well, well, Rose, what have we got here?" Mr. Jenkins said slyly, coming closer and eying Emmett. "Got a new one, 'ey? Or was he keeping you occupied when you weren't with me last week?"

Rose felt as if she had fallen into ice-cold water. For an outsider, Mr. Jenkins's voice was seamlessly convincing. She glanced quickly at Emmett, who looked darkly confused. Rose forced herself to stand strong and keep her facial expression from showing her fear.

"Come along, Emmett," Rose said primly. "We must not keep Mr. Jenkins. I'm sure he has important things to do."

"Bossy girl, aren't you?" Mr. Jenkins went on, as easily as if he was discussing the weather. "All right, I'll move on, but I just wanted to say that I really liked what you wore on Tuesday night. It really showed your _best features._"

Mr. Jenkins's voice was coldly suggestive and convincing, and Emmett turned toward Rose, a look of complete betrayal in his eyes.

"Rose?" he said hoarsely. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

Rose glanced wildly from Mr. Jenkins to Emmett, a heavy sense of dread taking over her. She wanted to believe it was a nightmare, but everything was too real—the sound of traffic, people talking, the warm sunshine, and the cunning, cruelly self-satisfied expression on Mr. Jenkins's face. Rose could barely bring herself to look at Emmett; his stricken expression hurt her as keenly as a cut from a knife.

"He's lying, Emmett!" Rose said. She tried to sound calm, but her voice shook with anxiety and distress. "Didn't I promise you I'd be loyal to you?"

Then Rose turned to Mr. Jenkins, and she pleadingly begged him to take back his lie.

"Mr. Jenkins, please,_ please_ admit that you're lying. _Please_."

Mr. Jenkins smiled horribly.

"Don't deny it, you little minx! Why, that night last week was one of the best nights I've ever had!"

Curious passersby looked at the unfolding drama as subtly as they could, but Rose did not care. Her world was falling apart. A strong mixture of rage and fear enveloped her. Rose forced herself to look at Emmett, who gazed back levelly, an expression of complete shock and disappointment in his eyes.

"I thought you had changed," Emmett said bitterly. Then, sharply:

"Come on. I'll drive you home."

"Emmett, please, you have to believe me!" Rose said earnestly as Mr. Jenkins looked on in cruel amusement.

"No I don't," Emmett said shortly. "Let's go. The sooner you get home, the better—then I won't have to see you again. It's over."

Rose looked at Emmett with blazing eyes, refusing to shed any tears in front of him. That would be a sign of weakness, and Rose did not want to be 'cowed'.

"No, thank you. I'll take a cab," she said flatly.

Emmett did not argue. Perhaps it was for the best—the tension on the ride home would have been excruciating. Without another word, without a backward glance, he turned on his heel and walked away.

Rose watched Emmett retreat. Suddenly she was strongly tempted to run after him, but she knew it wouldn't do any good. Not now—perhaps never. Her vision blurred as she watched the car pull away and disappear around a corner.

Even in her confused grief, Rose did not lose her headstrong, impulsive nature. Turning to Mr. Jenkins with an expression of utter hatred, she let him know exactly how she felt toward him.

"You horrible, hateful excuse for a man!" Rose cried, stunning him with a swift blow to his forehead.

Before Mr. Jenkins could come back to his senses, Rose strode swiftly away; half an hour later, a cab was pulling up to the council house, and she got out. When the cab had disappeared around the corner, Rose studied the place she never really thought of as 'home'—_house,_ yes, but not _home—_ with tired eyes.

Yes, there was the shabby building, where she would go on living for who knew how long. Working, then coming back, day after day, in a ceaseless pattern. Rose knew that since she had loved Emmett so intensely—deep within her subconscious she still did—she would never have anyone else.

Before Emmett, Rose had always preferred to cry alone after her breakups, but this time it was real, crushing grief. She wanted and needed Daisy's comfort and support now.

Rose rushed through the front door without closing it, carelessly dropped her bag of books in the hall, and went straight into the living room, fighting the choking sobs that were rising into her throat.

"You're home earlier than I thought," Daisy said when she heard the door open, but then she turned around to look at Rose. Daisy was immediately alarmed by the pained look on her sister's face.

"Rose, what is the matter?" Daisy asked.

"It's Emmett," Rose said weakly, on the verge of tears.

Daisy turned to Onslow. "Would you please give us some privacy for a while?" she asked.

Onslow seemed to sense the gravity of the situation, for without a word of protest, he rose from the recliner. Before he left the room, Onslow paused to give his sister-in-law a rare look of sympathy.

As soon as she heard Onslow's retreating footsteps, Rose collapsed onto the sofa and began to weep bitterly. Daisy sat down next to her sister and put a reassuring arm around her shoulders. Daisy perceptively stayed silent, sensing that Rose just wanted to cry until she could cry no longer.

A few minutes later, Rose's tears ended abruptly, and she stared listlessly at the floor.

"Can you tell me what's wrong, Rose?" Daisy asked gently, and Rose looked up, her eyes glassy and tired.

"It's Emmett…he…he rejected me," she said, her voice heavy with misery. Rose told the entire story, and Daisy listened quietly until she had finished.

"Oh, Rose, I wish I could do something to help," Daisy said sympathetically, giving her little sister a supportive hug.

Rose tried to smile at her kind sister, but could not quite manage it.

"I just appreciate you listening to me," Rose said, her voice quavering.

"Why, little sister, I'm here for you. I would never just let you cry alone," Daisy said.

"I know," Rose sniffled. She then rose to her feet.

"I think I need to call Hyacinth," Rose said wearily. "Just to let her know what happened, since Emmett is her neighbor and all. If he's acting strangely, she might wonder."

So Rose called her eldest sister and told her story again. Hyacinth's gentle concern touched Rose; though she sometimes seemed mildly ashamed of her little sister, Hyacinth was always there for her in the end.

"How could Emmett do this to you? Why, he's such a bas—," Hyacinth stopped short of what she had been about to say.

"Maybe I deserved it, because of what I used to be," Rose sniffled.

"No, you didn't," Hyacinth said firmly. "_I_ know you've changed, and of course our family does. Emmett is a fool to believe someone he's never even met before."

"I suppose so," Rose said tiredly. "I have to go now, Hyacinth. I'm going to try to get some sleep."

"Of course," Hyacinth said kindly. "Don't forget, you can call me _anytime_—I mean it, any hour of the day or night."

Rose put down the receiver and slowly dragged herself up the stairs. She no longer felt so crushed, but that feeling was replaced with a terrible numbness that was even worse. Rose's entire world seemed to have gone blank. Falling into bed, Rose drifted into a merciful, exhausted sleep that took her away from her pain for many hours.

**…**

The pain of Rose's betrayal—or what Emmett thought was betrayal—eclipsed the anguish he had felt after his divorce. Yes, this was far worse, Emmett realized when he had at last arrived at home.

Without conscious initiation, Emmett's thoughts drifted back to the night at the charity ball, when he had asked Rose to commit herself to him. Emmett remembered how he and Rose had laughed, talked and teased each other; how they had danced to one song after another, and it had seemed as if there was no one on the dance floor but themselves.

Emmett especially remembered the light in Rose's brown eyes as they had danced to 'Your Song' and afterwards, she had promised him that…

_No_. Not that. He wouldn't think of that. Emmett got out of the car and forced the memory of that promise out of his mind. Taking a deep breath, he entered the house as casually as possible. He did not want pity or sympathy from Liz, not right now—he just wanted to pretend that nothing was wrong, though the truth would come to light eventually.

To Emmett's relief, Liz was not in the living room. Good—he could slip away quietly and sequester himself in the bedroom. This plan cancelled itself, however, when Liz came into the living room from the kitchen.

"Did you have a good time with Rose today?" she asked cheerfully.

"Absolutely spiffing," Emmett said, with as genuine a smile as he could muster.

Liz gave him that searching look, the one Emmett often called the 'psychic sister expression'. Instantly he knew that Liz had seen past his words and his forced complacence.

"Did something go wrong?" Liz said quietly.

Emmett knew that Liz would give him privacy if he asked for it, but eventually he would have to explain what had happened. Well, better now than never. With a heavy heart, Emmett nervously paced back and forth as he recounted what had happened that day.

"I just don't know what to do, Liz," he said miserably.

Liz did not know what to do, either, except to make everything all right again for Emmett—but that was out of her control. Though they were less than a year apart in age—Liz was the eldest—she had always felt fiercely protective of her little brother and hated to see him this troubled and depressed. At the same time, she could not believe that Rose had betrayed Emmett.

"From what I understand," Liz said gently, "Rose had refused to socialize with that man months ago. She said it herself, didn't she? He was probably angry that Rose refused him. Emmett, Rose is infatuated with you—I've seen it every time you two are together."

Emmett laughed bitterly.

"Rose seemed quite defensive. And unless that man is an extremely good actor, he didn't seem upset—he was quite pleased, actually."

Liz looked directly at her brother.

"Have sense, Emmett! This man came up to Rose and accosted her in the street, saying to all of those inappropriate things—why _shouldn't_ Rose be defensive?"

"Why should it make her so defensive, if Rose is as loyal as she claimed?" Emmett said sardonically.

Without another word, he headed toward his bedroom, leaving Liz looking after him in disbelief. Her brother had been so happy, so absolutely in love with Rose, and after this one incident, he had discarded the laughing, merry woman who adored him. Perhaps it reminded him of when his ex-wife, Muriel, had divorced him, but Emmett had admitted that all along that the marriage had been a sham….

Maybe she had been too hard on Emmett, Liz reasoned with herself. Perhaps it was too soon to discuss with him what had happened. With that thought in mind, Liz retreated to the kitchen to make dinner.

An hour later Liz took a hot, delicious-smelling pan of lasagna from the oven, thinking that the hearty food would help Emmett recover and maybe even calm down enough to think twice about pushing Rose out of his life. After placing the pan on the counter, Liz went to Emmett's bedroom and knocked on the door.

"Yes?" Emmett said; the closed door did not muffle his sullen tone.

"I've made lasagna," Liz said kindly. "Why don't you come have some while it's hot?"

"I'm not hungry."

Liz said no more. It would be fruitless to try coaxing Emmett into eating. She ate alone, worrying about her brother—and Rose.

Emmett isolated himself in his bedroom for the rest of the night. For several hours he laid on his bed, staring at the ceiling and trying not to think about Rose. Unfortunately, the more Emmett tried _not_ to think about Rose, the more he _did; _it was like reverse psychology. Memories of his happy times with her haunted him, but eventually he managed to drift off into a fitful, restless sleep.

**…**

Sunlight streaming in through the window wakened Rose the next morning. She squinted against the bright light, but her eyelids felt heavy. Rose also felt acutely dull and drained of all energy. Something had happened the day before, but she could not recall what it was until she looked down at her lap and realized that she was still wearing the velvet-sashed, silky green dress.

_Why am I wearing my nice dress in bed?_ Rose thought in bewilderment, and then it all came back in a rush. Emmett was gone and she was alone. Rose had no more tears to shed, just that miserable ache in her heart.

Rose forced herself to get out of bed and trudge downstairs. She knew from how weak and exhausted she felt that she must eat, though she had absolutely no appetite. Besides, Daisy would fuss over Rose and make sure she _did_ eat something.

Rose took a bowl of cereal into the living room, sank into the sofa, and forced herself to eat, though every bite felt as if it would choke her. When she had finished, Rose leaned back in the sofa and fell into a disconsolate stupor.

A short time later, Daisy entered the room.

"Rose?" she said, walking over to her sister and looking at her with concern and sympathy. "Rose, did you sleep at all?"

"Mmm?" Rose said tiredly, looking at her sister. "Oh…yes, I slept. Very well, actually, but I just feel so foggy."

"I know," Daisy said kindly. "It will take some time to heal. Did you have anything to eat?"

Rose nodded in affirmation.

"That's good," a relieved Daisy said encouragingly, giving Rose a supporting smile. "You need to keep up your strength."

"Why?" Rose said, suddenly bitter and morose. "What is it good for? I go to work and come back here. Every day. Every week, probably for the rest of my life."

Rose's words and the way she spoke greatly alarmed Daisy.

"Rose, you're not thinking again about…about… killing yourself, are you?" she stammered, fear in every word.

"No," Rose said with a heavy sigh. "I was just being bitter. It wouldn't solve anything, and I wouldn't do that to my family"—then, almost in a whisper—"or Emmett."

Daisy hated to see her sister like this, a dim copy of the vivacious, wonderfully unique woman she had been. Daisy exited the room, sensing that Rose wanted to be alone. It would be a long time until Rose would accept what had happened, much less move past it.

**…**

In the first few weeks following the breakup, Emmett went through everyday life as if he was on autopilot, whether he was working, greeting Richard in the morning (Emmett noted that Hyacinth no longer greeted him unless she had to, and even then her voice was stiff and impersonal), helping Liz around the house, even going to church.

Two Sundays after the breakup, the vicar gave a sermon about the difficulties of committed relationships. At the end of the sermon, Michael concluded that with hard work and an honest attempt at understanding, almost any relationship could endure.

_Yes, maybe it works for some people, _Emmett thought darkly, and then mentally berated the vicar, thinking to himself:

_It's strange how he talks so confidently about that subject, when I have this suspicion that his own wife is distrustful of him!_

Emmett immediately felt ashamed of his uncharitable thoughts. He really knew nothing about Michael and Alice's relationship; at any rate, it was their business, not his.

"I guess I'm trying to take my resentment out on other people—even if I don't say it right to them," Emmett muttered to himself, as he followed Liz out of the church. With genuine courtesy, Emmett said goodbye to the vicar and Alice.

It was time to move on, Emmett realized. He couldn't let what had happened 'eat him up inside'—life would go on, even if it was without Rose…

**…**

Late that same Sunday morning, Rose was standing by the telephone, fingers poised as if to dial. Was she really ready for this? Rose's hand lingered over the receiver for several seconds, and then she dialed Liz's number. Would Emmett want to speak to her? Maybe he hadn't meant those terrible words.

_Ha, ha, _Rose thought a few seconds later, as the telephone was on its second ring. Quickly, before anyone could answer, she slammed down the receiver.

"Rose, you idiot," Rose muttered under her breath so that nobody in the room could hear, but Daisy appeared behind her and said in an undertone:

"Were you going to call Emmett?"

"Call him what?" Rose tried to joke, but Daisy looked at her severely.

"You were, weren't you?"

Rose looked away and muttered, "Yes."

Daisy gave her a cautioning glance.

"It's only been two weeks. You don't want to pressure Emmett."

Then Daisy stopped abruptly.

"Hell," she continued with uncharacteristic venom in her voice, "Emmett should be the one calling _you _if he cares. This was all Emmett's doing."

"Don't hold anything against Emmett," Rose pleaded, though she herself knew perfectly well that if Emmett regretted what he had done, he _would_ have contacted her.

"I can't help how I feel, Rose," Daisy said quietly and left the room.

**…**

Two months after the breakup, Rose began to transition back to the regular pace of life. She was promoted to a full-time job at Weatherby's, which kept her busy and gave her a sense of direction.

Though the pain and numbness was gone, Rose was yet to revive her high-spirited, snappy nature. Her sisters were all very kind to her—not that they hadn't been before, but they were insistent in helping Rose continuing to move on. When Rose was not working or socializing with her co-workers, they kept her busy with a broad variety of recreational activities to boost her spirits. Even Onslow sometimes extended kind favors, at least in his own unique way; for example, he once bet on a horse in her honor. The pretty filly, named Gentle Rose, won with flying colors.

**...**

Early one rainy night, Rose was listening to calming music on the radio, trying to help herself fall asleep, but as she started to become drowsy, a very familiar song began to play.

'Your Song'.

Every verse stirred up memories of the charity ball. Emmett's voice echoed in her mind:

"_You have beautiful eyes, Rose."_

A flood of longing for Emmett washed over Rose. She wanted to be in his arms again, to have their entertaining, rambling conversations, to laugh with him, to enjoy life together as they had before. Rose knew what she needed to do. Hands clenched in determination, she marched downstairs and went right to the telephone, and moved to pick up the receiver and dial.

Rose's suddenly paused. Another thought had occurred to her; if Liz answered, would she be upset that Rose had called? Maybe Liz even resented her, though Rose doubted that good-natured, kindly Liz was capable of that.

With a trembling hand, Rose managed to dial, and she waited nervously as the telephone rang on the other end. On the fifth ring, it was picked up and Rose heard Liz's cheerful voice answer. Rose swallowed hard before she spoke; and then, in a shaking but determined voice, she managed to stammer her way through her request.

"You wanted to speak to Emmett?" Liz asked quietly, and Rose was relieved that her tone was sympathetic.

"I'll ask him. That's as much as I can do," Liz said kindly.

Of course it was, and for that Rose was grateful. She waited anxiously until Liz picked up at the other end and spoke, her voice kind and caring.

"I'm sorry, Rose. Emmett just isn't willing to talk yet. I wish it didn't have to be this way, but you have my support—if there's _anything_ I can do, let me know."

"Thank you," Rose said faintly, and put down the receiver.

Well, that was it; there was nothing more she could do, except to keep moving on. She _would _learn to be happy again. Why shouldn't she? Rose had a job that she enjoyed, and now she was good friends with many of her women co-workers. Rose would go out with them and enjoy good times again.

And there was still one more thing to hold on to—Rose still took great pride in the fact that she had changed her lifestyle and was a better person for it—even if Emmett no longer believed it.

**…**

Later that evening, in Liz's home, Emmett was sitting at his piano, practicing a difficult piece, when his sister wandered into the living room and stopped in front of him. Emmett stopped playing and looked up at Liz, whose expression was grimly serious.

"What is it, Liz?" Emmett asked.

"It's about you," Liz said bluntly. "Emmett, why have you been keeping Rose out of your life? You were so happy and confident with Rose, and you trusted her—,"

"That's right," Emmett said defensively. "Past tense—I trusted her—once."

"Don't interrupt!" Liz snapped, startling Emmett, for she rarely raised her voice.

"When you two were together you were so happy! Both of you were. I know you loved her. Maybe you still do and just don't want to admit it. I remember how you looked at Rose—as if she was _everything_ to you. Emmett, why would you believe some total stranger? Don't stay away from Rose so long that you eventually lose any chance of gaining her back."

"We've been through this before," Emmett said curtly, and returned to playing the piano.

Liz looked disappointedly at her brother and stalked out of the room.

**…**

Another month passed, and Rose indeed learned to be happy again. It wasn't the same kind of happiness that she'd had before Emmett had rejected her, but she enjoyed life again. It was true that Rose did think about Emmett from time to time and felt a lonely ache, but she no longer let those moments bring her down.

"I'm back!" Rose announced one Friday evening, bursting into the living room of the council house. Daisy turned around in the sofa and smiled at her sister.

"You look cheerful! How was your night out with the girls?"

Rose laughed. "I suppose a 'night out' that involves board games might seem lame," she said with a grin, "but it was fun. We were at Hillary's house, and we played Pictionary. Did you know that I'm the worst artist ever? "

It was wonderful to see Rose laughing and smiling again. Daisy had never been so worried about her baby sister as in the days that had followed that terrible afternoon when she had feared that Rose might not completely recover from her split with Emmett. But the bright-eyed, sassy Rose was back.

"By the way, Rose, this envelope came for you," Daisy said when Rose had finished speaking.

Rose leaned over the sofa and plucked the envelope from Daisy's hand.

"Whoever wrote you that letter has amazing handwriting—it's like John Hancock's signature," Daisy said before Rose could look at the envelope.

"Perhaps it's from my old high school friend, Holly Taylor," Rose guessed. "Her handwriting was like copper plate."

"Well, I know how you can find out. Try looking at the envelope!" Daisy teased.

Rose laughed sheepishly and glanced at the envelope—then the smile on her face was extinguished as quickly as a candle is snuffed. A startled, almost frightened expression took over, and Daisy looked at her sister in alarm.

"What is it, Rose?" she said quickly. "What's wrong?"

"This envelope—it's _Emmett's_ handwriting," Rose said faintly. Only her address was on the envelope, but she recognized Emmett's carefully practiced hand.


	8. The Mysterious Letter

Hands shaking, Rose gingerly held the envelope by one corner as if she feared it might detonate at any minute. What kind of message was in the envelope? Rose was split between wanting to open the envelope and wanting to tear it into tiny particles and fling them away outside, until they were gone with the wind.

"Are you going to open it?" Daisy asked gently, and Rose completely lost her composure.

"Here, take it, burn it, do anything with it!" Rose cried frantically, violently attempting to shove the envelope into her sister's hand.

"Rose, _I'm_ not taking care of _your_ letter!" Daisy said severely, now sounding as commanding as Hyacinth. "Pull yourself together and _think!_ Do you really want to throw this envelope away?"

"Yes, I do. I don't want to read the message. It might say something I don't _want_ to hear!" Rose said sharply.

Daisy looked directly at her sister with a very sober expression.

"What if it's not as bad as you think? If you throw the letter away now, what if you look back and wish you hadn't?"

This reasonable speech irritated Rose.

"All right, I'll open it," she growled, and tore open the envelope. With leaden hands, Rose clumsily pulled out a folded sheet of ivory paper. For several seconds she stood motionless, but at last she gathered her courage and unfolded the letter. Written in Emmett's careful hand was one line.

_Please meet me in the park Tuesday night at five o'clock—I'll be at the bench by the small pond._

Tuesday night. That was in just three days. Numbly, Rose handed the letter to Daisy, who quickly read the message.

"Are you going?" Daisy queried.

"No!" Rose cried impulsively. "I can't! I've already been through enough!"

Neither sister spoke for several seconds, but when Rose made a move to dash upstairs, Daisy reached out, grabbed her sister's arm and unapologetically prevented her from making a move. The expression on Rose's face was one of both bewilderment and fury. She tried to twist her arm out of Daisy's grip, but the latter held on with surprising strength.

"What's the meaning of this? Let me go!" Rose hissed.

"No," Daisy said severely. "Not until you listen to sense! You _have_ been through a lot. What do you have to lose?"

"I don't know!" Rose cried. "What if Emmett has more to say about—about what he thinks of me?"

Daisy sighed heavily.

"Rose, what Emmett did was very wrong, and for a long time I hated him for what he did to you. But eventually I just let it go. I couldn't go on resenting him. Rose, what if he wants to meet you so he can apologize? Do you think Emmett would go to such an extent to be _cruel_ to you? I know he didn't treat you right that day, but I don't think he's some kind of monster."

Rose inwardly admitted that Daisy was being perfectly sensible. Rose vehemently resented sensible when she was so high-strung. After several minutes of internal reflection, Rose knew what she had to do—she _would_ meet Emmett at the park. She _could_ not,_ would_ not be a coward! No matter what lie ahead, Rose would least have the pride of knowing she hadn't been afraid to go. Whatever happened, would happen, and she must meet it as it came.

**…**

When Rose saw Emmett standing at the assigned meeting spot, looking into the distance, she fought an impulse to turn around and hurry away before he saw her approaching. Her vow to be courageous won, however, and though she was trembling inside, Rose determinedly continued walking forward.

Rose was just a few feet away from Emmett when the latter turned and saw her. His expression was neutral.

"Hello, Rose," Emmett said when she was standing before him.

Rose did not meet his eyes, but muttered a "hello" in return.

"Rose…" Emmett stared to say; there was a long pause. "Rose, I have something to say to you. Won't you at least look at me?"

Silence. Rose continued to look away.

Emmett sighed heavily.

"All right, just listen."

Rose stood in an almost sullen silence, but she listened.

"Rose, I'm sorry," Emmett began. "I didn't mean to be so cruel. I _shouldn't _have just believed a stranger. You _have_ changed—I knew that, but I let myself fall for some jealous fool's horrible words. I should have _defended_ you, Rose. And I did the opposite. I'm ashamed of myself, Rose."

There was a chilly silence on Rose's part, and she still did not look toward Emmett. Her mind was churning. Was he saying this because he really loved her and wanted her back, or was Emmett just apologizing as he might to anyone he had regretted hurting?

"I still love you, Rose," Emmett said gently.

Rose looked sideways at him; Emmett was holding out his arms and he gave a questioning smile. Rose hesitated…she gazed into his eyes…and then she _knew._ Emmett wanted her and loved her!

Rose threw herself into Emmett's open arms, half laughing, half crying.

"Thank you," she said breathlessly, as Emmett held her close.

"For what?" he asked.

"Loving me."

"I don't think I could just _decide_ to love you," Emmett said with a friendly laugh.

"That's true," Rose said, grinning through her happy tears.

Rose suggested that she and Emmett walk through the park, and they did. The reunited couple strolled idly along the path, talking as easily as if nothing had happened between them. While they chatted, Rose and Emmett watched the birds and squirrels and people. The air was balmy and pleasantly warm; on an open lawn not far from the path, some people were flying kites, and it looked as if the kites could touch the flat-bottomed, brilliantly white clouds that drifted in the cyan sky.

"I wasn't sure if you'd come," Emmett said quietly. "After the way I treated you."

They had circled the park and were now approaching the small pond again.

"I didn't even want to _open_ the letter," Rose admitted, "but Daisy pointed out that I might regret it. Daisy's the most sensible one in our family."

"More so than Hyacinth?" Emmett teased.

"Oh, Hyacinth can be sensible, if she wants to be," Rose said truthfully. "It's just that she tries too hard to keep up appearances and impress people."

"Yes, she does do that," Emmett said.

The bright sunlight had mellowed, and it was slowly starting to curve toward the horizon. Rose and Emmett sat on the bench and watched the light glittering on the pond, and they talked again—after all, they 'had' to make up for lost time and lost conversations. When they could think of nothing more to discuss, Rose and Emmett were content to sit on the bench in comfortable silence as sunset slowly but surely approached.

"Rose?" Emmett said half an hour later, so quietly that she almost did not hear him.

"Yes?" Rose replied.

"I was wondering…" Emmett began, but his voice trailed off. Rose looked curiously at Emmett; this expression was oddly unreadable. Even the silence seemed to be waiting to hear what he had to say—if he would ever say it.

Then…

"Rose Granger, will you marry me?"


	9. A Walk in the Park

For a moment, Rose thought she had misheard Emmett's words, but one look at him and she knew that she _had_ heard correctly. Rose Granger, once noted for her theatrics, was momentarily robbed of the power of speech. It was only two hours after she and Emmett had reunited, and now Emmett was asking her to _marry_ him.

Then, in a flash of insight, Rose realized that Emmett had intended to ask this of her even been before the day they had crossed paths with Mr. Jenkins—perhaps even _on_ that day.

Emmett broke into her thoughts.

"You don't have to answer today," he said gently. "I just want you to think about it."

Rose took in a breath as if to speak, but the words she wanted to say caught in her throat. Rose knew what her answer was, and if only she could speak, Emmett would know as well. With great effort, Rose finally managed to reply.

"I _do_ want to marry you," she said hesitantly. "But, Emmett—I want you to be certain that _you_ trust me."

"I wouldn't be asking if I had any doubts," Emmett said reasonably. "I wanted you back, didn't I?"

"And you care enough to marry me," Rose said, wonderingly, and then smiled.

"Then my answer is…yes," she said with certainty.

Emmett stared for several seconds, stunned, and Rose gave him an affirming and encouraging smile. A look of pure joy set Emmett's face alight. Reaching into his shirt pocket, he withdrew a small, velvet-covered box and presented it to Rose.

After opening the box with trembling hands, Rose gasped in admiration and surprise. Against a cushion of pale blue silk shimmered a ring with a silver band, set with a small oval pearl and a round, red-brown stone on either side.

"Pearl and garnets," Emmett explained. "It was Mother's wedding ring. Muriel refused it—'a _diamond_ ring is more traditional', she said. That should've warned me of where we were heading."

Rose looked at him in sympathy.

"That was a horrible thing for her to say! I guess she just wanted a ring, and didn't care about the meaning behind it!"

Emmett smiled.

"That doesn't matter anymore, Rose," he said blithely. "I realize that this ring was meant for someone special. And she's sitting next to me right now."

Rose was so pleased by Emmett's words that her eyes misted over. Emmett carefully took the ring from the box and Rose instinctively held out her left hand. A moment later she felt the circlet of silver slip onto her finger and looked down at her hand. It felt strange—but wonderful—to be wearing this beautiful, meaningful ring.

For several seconds neither of them spoke, but eventually Rose, with a flirtatious smile, gave a proud toss of her hair.

"You'll be putting up with me until the day you die…unless I die first," she giggled, with a lighthearted spark in her eyes.

"A cheerful follow-up to a proposal," Emmett said drolly, but a moment later he slipped an arm around Rose's waist and gently pulled her closer to him.

When Rose looked at Emmett with questioning eyes, he leaned in and kissed her softly, and when Rose's eyes gazed fondly at him, Emmett deepened the kiss, putting his other arm around her and holding her close. Rose completely surrendered to Emmett's loving touch and relaxed into his gentle embrace. The kiss was insistent, but there was also a tenderness to it that warmed Rose all over. There was so much in it that spoke what words couldn't convey. All of her so-called 'loves', her flings, had _never_ made her feel like this.

"Damn, you're amazing," Rose said saucily, and then kissed Emmett in return. The latter released Rose from his arms, but he stayed close by her side on the bench. Rose sighed blissfully and rested her head against Emmett's shoulder.

"It's a beautiful night," she said sentimentally. Emmett started to reply, but suddenly he startled and swatted at a pale gray blur—a large moth, which now lay twitching on the ground.

Rose leaned down and gently picked up the moth, still twitching, in her hand.

"I don't think it's a beautiful night for this moth," Rose said with dry humor, carefully holding it in hopes that it would recover and fly away.

"I didn't mean to hit it that hard," Emmett said. "All of a sudden, this large, fluttery thing flew right toward my eye!" He frowned. "I hope I didn't kill it."

At that moment, the moth struggled to its feet, flicked its wings, and soared into the velvety blue-purple haze of early dusk. A gentle breeze stirred the leaves of the trees and a bird drowsily uttered one last chirp. It really was a beautiful night, and Rose and Emmett continued to sit on the bench for almost an hour, in calm, meditative silence.

"I guess we'd both better go home," Emmett said eventually. Night had fallen; a silvery full moon hung in the sky and stars were glinting. They walked back to the parking lot along the lit path.

"Well, this is goodbye," Emmett said so solemnly that Rose laughed.

"What is it?" Emmett asked.

"You make it sound like we're parting forever."

Emmett smiled as he opened the door of Rose's jalopy.

"I should hope not forever. I don't want you just running off with that ring," he teased.

Rose laughed. "You're an odd one, sometimes," she said, "but I love you."

"I love you, too," Emmett said gently, and gave Rose a parting hug before she got into the driver's seat and closed the door. Rose started the engine and drove off into the night.

"Well, old boy, you finally did it," Emmett said aloud to himself as he drove home, Emmett was still marveling that Rose had accepted his proposal. In his mind, Emmett remembered a verse from a song he liked:

_Baby, I'm amazed by the way you love me all the time_

_Maybe I'm afraid of the way I love you…_


	10. Announcements

Though it was nearly ten o'clock in the evening, light was coming through the partially closed door of the living room in the council house. Rose peeked inside; Daisy was sitting on the much-worn sofa, reading a book. That was odd; Daisy usually stayed up no later than quarter to nine.

"Is everything all right?" Rose asked, stepping into the room. Daisy startled slightly and looked up from her book.

"Sure, everything's all right," Daisy said innocently. "I just couldn't sleep."

Rose snorted derisively.

"You expect me to believe that?" she exclaimed.

"Whatever you like," Daisy said calmly. Rose looked at Daisy with careful scrutiny, and then ever so casually she turned her left hand so that the light glittered on the garnets and brought out the shine of the pearl. Daisy's eyes lit up and she smiled broadly.

"I knew it!" Daisy crowed. "I _knew_ it!"

"_How?_" Rose gasped.

"I don't know," Daisy said solemnly. "I just had a feeling. A couple of hours after you left, I just had this odd sense that Emmett must have had a _very_ important reason for asking you to meet him in the park."

Rose stared at her sister and then held out her hand so that Daisy could further admire the ring. Daisy, ever the romantic, listened breathlessly to the chronicle of all that had happened in the park.

Daisy abruptly dropped her sister's hand, leapt up from the sofa, and began to dance around the room like an overexcited child on Christmas morning. Her serious countenance had vanished, and to Rose's great amusement, Daisy began to shout, exclaiming, "I was right! I was right!" again and again, clapping her hands as well.

"I declare, you're almost more excited than I am!" Rose jested, laughing.

"Can't a bloke get a good night's sleep anymore?" said a familiar voice behind her.

"Come here, Onslow, and congratulate your sister-in-law," Daisy commanded, stopping for breath.

Onslow grunted and yawned.

"Congratulate 'er? For what?"

Rose turned and tossed her head proudly and extended her left hand just as she had for Daisy, smiling triumphantly.

"Onslow, you are looking at the future Mrs. Rose Hawksworth."

"D'ye mean you're actually planning on getting to the altar this time?" Onslow said snidely.

"That's the plan!" Rose said proudly, not rising to the bait.

Onslow actually smiled.

"Emmett's a nice fellow," he said sincerely. "I'm happy for you, Rose."

Rose and Daisy looked at each other and laughed.

"All right, where's Onslow Taylor and what have you done with him?" Daisy demanded, trying to keep a straight face.

**...**

When Emmett pulled into the driveway of his sister's house, he was not surprised to see that the light was still on in the living room window, glowing into the night. He had informed Liz of what he intended to ask of Rose, and his sister had been beyond supportive.

"Didn't I tell you months ago that you two belong together?," Liz had said at the time.

At the present moment, when Emmett walked into the living room, Liz was at her desk, writing. She appeared at first to be concentrating on whatever she was composing, but Emmett saw her quickly glance sideways.

"I know you're waiting for me to speak, Liz," Emmett said dryly, and Liz looked up.

"Why, Emmett, I didn't hear you come in!" she said unconvincingly.

"_Liz._"

"Fine! Yes, I was waiting up. I can't sleep until I know what Rose's answer is."

To Liz's horror, Emmett sighed heavily as if in deep dejection and sank into the nearest chair, shoulders slumped.

"I'm not sure I'm ready to tell you her answer. I'm just so overwhelmed," Emmett said soberly, trying to look as mournful as possible and keep a straight face.

Glancing up, he saw a look of pity on his sister's face. The act was working!

Liz came over to him and patted him on the shoulder.

"Oh, Emmett, I'm so sorry," Liz said sadly, and Emmett grinned wickedly.

"For what? Rose said 'yes'!" Emmett said, laughing at his own prank

"Emmett!" Liz reproved, though she could not help smiling. "Don't do that again—you had me worried!"

"_Pre_cisely," Emmett said, grinning, as his sister gave him a congratulatory hug.

**...**

It was very early the next morning, when the light was only faintly gray, that Hyacinth and Richard _Bouquet_ were startled out of a sound sleep by the shrill of the telephone.

Hyacinth sat up at once, her heart pounding, but it took Richard a good while longer to come out of sleep. He had been having such a wonderful dream—he was back at his old job at the council, and Hyacinth had been forbidden to call him at work.

Hyacinth was already flying out of the room by the time Richard managed to sit up.

"Who could be calling now?" she cried out in genuine distress. "Suppose it's about my Sheridan! Maybe something happened to him!"

Richard was also quite alarmed, but for Hyacinth's sake he didn't show it. He shuffled after her into the hall, where Hyacinth snatched up the receiver from its base in the shell-shaped wall recess.

"If this is about my Sheridan, don't break it to me gently!" Hyacinth panted. "Tell me right n—Rose? What's the matter? Is it Daddy?"-a pause-"Not Daddy? Then why did you call me at this ungodly hour?"

There was a long pause, and a look of great surprise grew on Hyacinth's face.

"Emmett? Oh, Rose, that's wonderful! I was so hoping it would turn out this way! You two are _so_ compatible!"

Richard now perked up and listened to Hyacinth's end of the conversation.

"Slow down, Rose, slow down," Hyacinth placated. "There will be plenty of time for conversation at a more appropriate hour. Why, I've got an idea—why don't you come here and join me and Liz for tea this afternoon at three o'clock?"

There was a pause, and Hyacinth smiled.

"Good, I'll see you then! Congratulations again, dear!"

Hyacinth put down the receiver with trembling hands, and to Richard's amazement, she flew toward him and gave him a crushing hug.

"That was Rose! Emmett's asked her to marry him and she accepted!" Hyacinth said all in one breath.

"Very good, very good," Richard said sincerely. He was very happy for his sister-in-law and his neighbor, and glad to see Hyacinth so happy.

"You look a bit overexcited, Hyacinth. Should I make you a bit of cocoa?"

"That would be nice," Hyacinth replied gratefully, smiling at her husband.

"I don't make as nice a cup of cocoa as you do, but I'll try," Richard said.

**...**

Rose paused with her hand on the telephone receiver, ready to call Violet before she headed to the appointed time for tea. Rose was, of course, beyond elated after the previous night, but...how would Violet, with her more than strained marriage, react to her youngest sister's news? Daisy and Onslow were very happy together, in their uniquely idle way. Hyacinth and Richard's relationship was somewhat executive, at least to outsiders, but they were both solidly committed to each other. As for Violet and Bruce…

It was best not to think too much about it, Rose decided, dialing Violet's number. Rose _was _happy, and it wouldn't be right to tiptoe around that.

The telephone rang several times before Violet spoke.

"Hello?"

"Violet, it's me. Rose! Guess what happened last night!" Rose fairly sang. "Emmett asked me to meet him at the park yesterday—he was sorry for what he'd done. And do you know what else? He—,"

There was a shuffling noise, as if Violet was attempting to cover up the receiver at her end, but Rose could hear her shouting to Bruce.

"Would you dress and act like a man sometime? Quit sulking! Yes, it's my sister, Rose, and yes, I'm going to talk to her!"

Rose cringed. Things definitely were the same as usual at The Paddocks.

"Yes, Rose?" Violet asked tiredly, coming back on the line. "What about Emmett?"

"Emmett and I are getting married!" Rose said joyfully. "He asked me last night. Emmett really _is_ 'the one'!" Rose paused for breath and laughed. "Even Onslow agrees!"

Violet's voice, shockingly cold and bitter, cut into Rose's happiness like a knife.

"_Why_ don't we wait to see if you actually _get_ to the altar this time?"

"Violet!" Rose gasped, horrified and hurt. There was a long pause and then Violet said gently:

"I'm sorry, Rosie. I didn't mean that, really. I _am_ very happy for you."

Rose smiled at the use of her almost forgotten pet name.

"Thank you, Violet," she said gratefully.

"Just don't let our Hyacinth take over the entire wedding preparations," Violet laughed, ending the conversation on a happy note.

**...**

Rose also 'phoned Mrs. Fortescue to tell her the good news. The elderly woman was thrilled and hung on to every word of Rose's story. Rose had, of course, told her about the day that Emmett had broken up with her, and the fiery elderly woman had expressed a great desire to 'pound' Emmett with her walking stick. That, of course, was long past.

"I'm so, _so,_ happy for you, dear," Mrs. Fortescue said brightly. "I'm glad that young man came to his senses."

**...**

Later in the afternoon, Rose found herself mounting the steps to her father's room. She was shaking nervously as she pushed open the door and stepped into the dimness.

"Father?" Rose said softly, looking toward the near-prone figure on the bed. Rose walked over to her father, poised to speak, to tell him her good news. Rose had chosen this time to visit her father because it was in-between doses. Perhaps, for a moment, he might be able to comprehend her words and not just _hear_ them.

Daddy looked up, and there was a fleeting flicker of recognition in his eyes.

"Father, I'm going to be married!" Rose said happily, looking into his eyes, and was dismayed to see that they had gone blank again. Nonetheless, Rose forged on. "I'm going to marry Hyacinth's neighbor, Emmett!"

There was another flicker of recognition, and Rose was almost frightened when the old man reached out and touched his daughter's hand. Miraculously, he looked directly at Rose.

"I'm proud of you, little Rosie," Daddy said, his voice, for a moment, sounding as it had in the days before Mummy had died.

"Oh, Father," Rose cried half tearful and half amazed, but her father drifted back into oblivion.

Rose choked back a sob and left. She reminded herself to treasure that one wonder moment—when her father had seemed himself again, if only for a few seconds.

Thus, all the announcements (on Rose's part) were made, and all that was left was to plan for the wedding. Rose felt exhausted just thinking about it—a date had to be set, a reception had to be arranged, she had to find a dress…

Rose forced herself to stop thinking about the work that needed to be done. After all, she _would_ have Hyacinth at the helm. With all of this in mind, Rose set out for the Buckets' home. It was almost time for the afternoon tea with Hyacinth and Liz.


	11. Engagement Party

Rose and Liz were glad to see each other for the first time in many months, though so much had happened that it almost felt even longer. As when Rose and Emmett had attended the candlelight suppers months ago, Liz was not nervous about using the Royal Doulton. Ironically, it was quite the reverse this time, as an overexcited Hyacinth could barely keep the steaming teapot steady, nearly spilling the scalding liquid on Rose.

"Watch it, sister," Rose said, helping Hyacinth steady the teapot.

The latter hurried away to return the teapot and bring out a plate of biscuits. Scarcely a moment later, a resounding crash startled Liz and Rose, who had been chatting idly.

"Hyacinth, what on earth?" Rose exclaimed when she turned around in her seat and saw her sister standing over a pool of spilt tea and fragments of the teapot.

"Oh, there's been too much excitement!" Hyacinth wailed. "I'm just glad I didn't use my Royal Doulton teapot."

"Let me help you, Hyacinth," Liz offered.

"Me too," Rose said, so the two women went to work; Liz sopped up flood of tea from Hyacinth's laminate wood floor while Rose swept up the shards of the (luckily inexpensive) ceramic teapot.

As she began to sweep, Rose gave Liz a quick wink and said to Hyacinth:

"Oh, _Hyacinth,_ what is the use of thumbs if you don't know how to operate them?"

Liz, who had just taken a pail of soapy water and a mop from Hyacinth, could not suppress a giggle.

"Very funny, Rose Marie Granger," Hyacinth said, but she was smiling.

With the three women helping each other, the mess was quickly cleared up, and with a bit of wood polish, the floor looked none the worse for wear. Hyacinth put away the cleaning supplies and rejoined Rose and Liz at the kitchen table.

"I can't believe how happy you've made Emmett," Liz said to Rose. "I was just praying that he'd see some sense and want you back."

"Daisy said she'd had a premonition on the night Emmett met me at the park. She said she just _knew_ that he would propose to me," Rose informed Liz. "Daisy actually wasn't surprised to see the ring on my finger when I came home that night ."

"We _must_ have an engagement party," Hyacinth suddenly interrupted.

Rose and Liz looked toward her in apprehension, but Hyacinth smiled.

"We'll keep it small and exclusive," Hyacinth assured them, but Rose and Liz exchanged knowing looks. Hyacinth's definition of 'small and exclusive' was not quite the same as that of the average person. Rose determined then and there to make sure that the engagement party would not be completely 'Hyacinthian'.

**...**

A week later, the engagement party was held on a relaxing Friday night. True to form, Hyacinth had wanted to host it at the _Bouquet_ residence, but Rose and Emmett insisted on a less formal setting. Thus, despite Hyacinth's wheedling, the engagement party was held at a cozy, homey restaurant that was actually not too far from Title Page Books. Truth be told, it wasn't so much a party as it was a casual gathering of friends and family.

It was a nice change to be able to choose from some different dishes, and enjoy the relaxed atmosphere instead of sitting in Hyacinth's 'starched and ironed' dining room.

There were only select guests gathered. Besides Rose and her sisters, Emmett, Liz, and Richard, only Gail attended, as well as Mrs. Fortescue.

Mrs. Fortescue could not contain her excitement, and was already demanding to know what plans were in place for the wedding. She persisted until Rose laughingly pointed out that it had only been a week since Emmett's proposal—there was still so much to do and think about in regards to the wedding!

"Well, as soon as you make the plans, let me know," Mrs. Fortescue commanded, and Rose and Emmett promised to do so.

"So where are you two lovebirds going to live after you get married?" Richard asked with a smile.

"There are some nice apartments in this area," Emmett said. "Rose could be near Weatherby's, and I wouldn't be too far away from where I work."

"It'll be strange not seeing you every morning, Emmett," Hyacinth said almost mournfully. "If only there was a way you two could live on our street, then we could get together _all the time!_"

"Pity we can't," Emmett said, but there was no sarcasm in his words.

"What made you decide to ask Rose to marry you, Emmett?" Violet asked curiously.

"Well, I couldn't imagine doing anything else," Emmett said, smiling fondly at Rose. "We belonged together all along—I was just in denial for a long time, as Rose will affirm."

When the guests had finished their food and the conversation had lulled, Rose and Emmett were presented with a broad range of gifts, and it was obvious that much thought had been put into each one.

From Hyacinth and Richard was the most practical gift, a set of everyday cookware and dishes. From Daisy and Onslow, to Hyacinth's annoyance, was a good supply of premium beer, of which Mrs. Fortescue heartily approved. As for the elderly heiress, her gift to the happy new couple was two tickets to a popular musical in London and a set of crystal shot glasses, custom engraved with _E+R_ in elegant script.

Violet and Bruce's contribution was the most extravagant of all, but Violet would hear no refusals as she handed a glossy photograph of a red convertible to Rose and Emmett.

"All yours," she said with a mischievous grin, "once you find a place to settle in. You two can't both work and share one car."

"Oh, I'm sure people have before," Emmett said quickly. "It's all in the scheduling. With all due respect, Violet, we can't accept this! It's too much."

"No it's not," Violet said lazily, and the argument was closed.

Gail had managed to take time away from her busy work at the university. Ever the artist, she presented a craft she had made; from a copper ring hung strands of polished beads of various rocks—jade, obsidian, amethyst and granite. Each strand ended in a heart-shaped, clear glass pendant.

"How beautiful," Rose and Emmett said at once, admiring the careful handiwork.

"Thank you," Gail said, smiling. She had her mother's pleasant smile, but aside from that, with her sparkling green eyes, curly black hair, and heart-shaped face, Gail could not have looked less like Liz.

"I picked those rocks because they bring good energy into a home," Gail explained, when Emmett asked his niece how she had picked out which beads to put on the fishing-line strands that held them.

Sheridan was unable attend his Aunt Rose's engagement party, though he promised to be at the wedding; nevertheless, he had sent a gift by mail, which was now kept at Liz's house until the happy couple had somewhere to use them.

"He sent these beautiful cream-colored sheets and pillowcases," Rose said to the guests. "Hand-sewn with beautiful embroidery."

"Ah, my Sheridan has _always_ been skilled in the art of fine home linens," Hyacinth crowed, smiling broadly. "He has his mummy's artistic mind."

"Such thoughtful gifts," Rose and Emmett thanked the contributors once more. Everyone lingered for a few more minutes after dessert, and then the guests regretfully had to part. It had been a pleasant evening; even Hyacinth said more than once how enjoyable it was.

Mrs. Fortescue stayed behind, mysteriously indicating to Rose and Emmett that she wanted to have a private word with them. When the other guests were out of sight, she looked at Rose and Emmett with a twinkle in her eye and smiled mysteriously.

"Come down to the pub on West Street tomorrow at noon. I have something to tell you."


	12. An Unexpected Gift and a Humble Apology

"I wonder why Mrs. Fortescue wanted to see us so soon after the engagement party," Rose was saying, for they had remembered their noon "appointment" with the elderly lady—at the very pub where Rose and Mrs. Fortescue had become friends!

Rose and Emmett arrived at the pub ten minutes early, but Mrs. Fortescue was already there, challenging a stranger to a game of darts. The rather dapper-looking man she had put to the test was looking somewhat annoyed, for Mrs. Fortescue had just beaten him at a third game. Rose and Emmett were grinning as they stood by to watch.

"Let me just win this one last game," Mrs. Fortescue said, seeing the pair watching her. She _did_ win, and with a triumphant backwards glance, Mrs. Fortescue walked away from her stunned competitor.

"Haven't lost your touch, have you?" Rose said, and Mrs. Fortescue made no attempt to sound humble.

"Never have come near losing it," she said, shamelessly arrogant. "Laura Madeline Fortescue _is_ the grand master of the dart board."

"Is that your full name?" Rose commented. "It's a very pretty name."

"Thank you," Mrs. Fortescue said. She moved toward a quiet booth in the back corner. "It's more private back here. I have something I wish to discuss with you two."

Mrs. Fortescue's tone was solemn but mysterious. Rose and Emmett glanced at each other, curious.

When the odd trio had settled down and ordered a round of meals and drinks, Mrs. Fortescue spoke of her purpose for meeting Rose and Emmett. Before she started talking, however, Mrs. Fortescue held up her hand warningly.

"I am going to explain something, and I don't want to hear _any_ protests or interruptions," she said with authority.

The newly engaged couple exchanged a baffled, somewhat worried glance. They respectfully heeded the elderly heiress's wishes, however, and listened to what she proposed.

"I know that you two, with your financial status and with the damned economy the way it is, cannot afford a house. I remember you two mentioning that you'd find a nice apartment to rent. That cannot be"—this with the noble air of a queen giving a command. Mrs. Fortescue continued:

"You two need a house to call your own, to—if you'll excuse the old adage—grow old in together. That is why I am going to let you both pick out any house you wish, and hang the expense!"

Rose and Emmett had been sitting speechlessly as Mrs. Fortescue had blithely and without pause for breath presented her proposal. Now she was watching them, with the expression of a hawk watching its prey, for their reaction.

"Mrs. Fortescue, we can't—," Rose started to say, and winced when Mrs. Fortescue sharply smacked her shoulder with her walking stick.

"I do not wish to have a gift refused," Mrs. Fortescue said sternly.

"But, Mrs. Fortescue, it's all too mu—," Emmett cut in, but backed off when the elderly woman threatened him, in turn, with that lethal stick.

"I said not to interrupt. Now, listen, you two," Mrs. Fortescue said gravely, "I have more money sitting around than I could ever need, for no earthly use. I won't be in this world much longer, and I'd like to see it put to some good. My only relative now is a distant, many-times-removed niece living in France; the bulk of the estate will go to her, but I'd like you two to have a real home to move into."

Rose and Emmett glanced at each other and realized that they could not refuse.

"How lovely of you, Mrs. Fortescue," Rose said softly, her eyes misting.

"I don't know how we can thank you," Emmett said, stunned.

"Just pick out a nice house—and don't let anyone see it before I do," Mrs. Fortescue commanded.

Mrs. Fortescue added one more condition a day later: Rose and Emmett must find a home they liked _before_ the wedding, if possible. After all, it would be ideal for the new couple to be able to go right to their own home after the wedding. Thus, Rose and Emmett went house-hunting during the week before they had scheduled to discuss the technical details of the wedding ceremony itself.

Rose and Emmett had both agreed to look in the Buckets' and Liz's neighborhood, for Rose actually wanted to be near Hyacinth, the eldest sister, who had held the family together during the tragic days after Mummy had died—with all due respect to her other older sisters—and Emmett wanted to be near Liz, his older sister and only sibling.

"To think I'd ever want to live near Hyacinth," Rose said on their first day of house-hunting, as the realtor escorted them into a house two streets over.

"To think I'm not frightened at that prospect!" Emmett said with a laugh.

For almost the entire week, Rose and Emmett looked at houses. To their initial dismay, there was something about each one that somehow did not 'say' _home_.

Then, six days into the search, Rose and Emmett found the perfect house—and it was right next door to the Bouquet residence. It had been for sale for almost a year, which made them suspicious, leaving it at the bottom of their list.

It was a plain house indoors, and needed some work, which was probably accounted for it still being on the market, but Rose and Emmett chose it because the 'blank canvas' of a house would allow them to make it uniquely their own. They would get new wallpaper, tile, carpet…and eventually decorate it as well..

"You get that house made up nicely before your wedding," Mrs. Fortescue told them when she met them at the pub for the last time before the wedding.

"Well, we're planning on having the wedding in two months, so that won't be hard," Emmett said.

"And remember, _I_ see the house first!" Mrs. Fortescue reminded Rose and Emmett—as if they would forget!

**...**

On the evening that Rose and Emmett had found the house, they went to the Cherry Blossom Café to discuss a few odds and ends. As they started on their dessert, Emmett brought up the subject of where they were to be married.

"I'd like to get married in the Church, more specifically, at St. Mark's parish, since I've been a part of it for so long," Emmett said.

Rose startled and she said shakily, "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

Emmett caught her meaning and gave her an encouraging smile.

"I don't think the vicar will judge. He was never, um, 'interested' in you, so it shouldn't be awkward."

"It's not about him, it's about Mrs. Evans—it would be so awkward for _her!_"

"Why should that prevent us from getting married at St. Mark's?"

"I suppose it _couldn't,_" Rose admitted, "but I can't feel completely at ease until I apologize to Mrs. Evans. I'd like to do that before you call the vicar to arrange a date for the ceremony."

"That does sound like the proper thing to do," Emmett agreed. "Listen, there's another senior citizen's outing being held by the church on Saturday morning, to the seaside carnival again. The vicar is going along, of course, but Alice isn't. That'll give you an opportunity to talk to her."

"Or try to," Rose said doubtfully. "Saturday...that's the day after tomorrow. Wish me luck."

**...**

Saturday came, and at eleven o'clock Rose found herself on the doorstep of the Evans' home. Despite her resolve, Rose's hands were cold and clammy and she felt very uncomfortable inside. Still, Rose forced herself to ring the doorbell.

A few seconds passed before the door opened. There stood Alice, and for a moment she looked inquiringly at her caller. It took her several seconds to recognize Rose.

"Rose, how _nice_ to see you!" Alice said with venomous sarcasm in every word. "I didn't recognize you at first, seeing as you're fully clothed."

Rose winced slightly, but she did not protest, for she certainly couldn't say that she didn't deserve the scorn.

Alice made a move to close the door, but Rose boldly put her foot out to prevent just that. Alice's eyes flashed at this bold defiance.

"Mrs. Evans, I wish to speak to you," Rose said fervently.

Alice narrowed her eyes.

"Why?" she demanded curtly.

"I could explain more easily if I could sit down," Rose said.

"All right. We'll go inside," Alice said officiously, giving Rose a scrutinizing look. "I'll let you talk-but I am not promising I'll say anything-and I can dismiss you at any time."

"All right," Rose humbly agreed.

Alice silently escorted Rose into the house, slamming the door rather violently behind them. She then ushered Rose into the living room and pointed to a chair.

"Well, talk away," Alice said coolly, as soon as Rose sat down.

Rose launched into her apology, but at the end she could barely remember her own words. She looked unflinchingly at Alice as she spoke. The vicar's wife's expression was unreadable, and when Rose finished speaking, there was a long, unpleasant silence.

"I see," Alice said stiffly at last. "Does this have anything to do with Emmett, perchance?"

"Weeellll…" Rose was not sure what Alice was implying. "Emmett and I are engaged now. He—he's helped me change. I've realized that I was going the wrong way, more and more. I _am_ very sorry, truly I am, but I can say nothing more."

Alice frowned, but she was neither any more friendly nor was she hostile when spoke again.

"If Emmett believes you have changed, I respect that he does so. I, however, cannot accept your apology."

The answer was blunt and to the point. Rose nodded.

"I understand," Rose said, rising from the chair. "I can't fault you for withholding forgiveness."

"Then this conversation is over?" Alice said; it sounded like a question, but was not.

"One more thing," Rose said quietly, with a grave smile. "Your husband _never, _ever gave me so much as a passing glance. _You're _the only one he wants."

Rose walked away without another word, leaving the vicar's wife looking after her with a puzzled expression. Whatever had been Rose's reason for adding that last remark?

Later that night, Rose told Emmett about how she had fared in regards to her apology to Alice. Emmett admired Rose for commandeering the courage to follow it through, but Rose brushed away the praise with a wave of her hand. After all, she couldn't rightly have done anything else.

Though Alice had not accepted the apology, Rose had the satisfaction of knowing that she had truly tried to make amends. Now, Rose thought, she could look forward to planning the wedding with a clear conscience.

The next morning, Emmett rang the vicarage so that a date for the ceremony could be set; then plans would _really_ start moving quickly.


	13. Honesty and Admissions

When the telephone rang at the vicarage, the Evans's were in their kitchen, finishing a late breakfast. The vicar was finishing a third cup of coffee (all the better to be alert if Hyacinth _Bouquet_ came by) and reading the _London Observer_, while Alice was jotting point plots for a novel she hoped to write.

"Listen to this, Alice," Michael said suddenly.

"Hmm?" Alice said, looking up distractedly.

"From the _Anecdotes from America_ column—'American congressman Steve Billingsley discovered the fossils of a previously unknown species of gliding lizard. As the discoverer, he was allowed the name the species. It is now called_ librum lacerta_, or 'book lizard'. The Congressman gave the extinct species its name to honor his wife, Caroline, an avid book lover.'"

"He named a cold-blooded, scaly animal after his wife," Michael said, laughing good-naturedly.

"I think it's sweet," Alice said. "It's a very unique tribute. Why don't _you_ find a lizard and name it in _my_ honor?" she continued, teasing.

"If I did, I would," Michael said sincerely, gazing affectionately at his wife. "I'd call it 'amazing lizard', seeing as you're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

"Flatterer," Alice said, but she smiled broadly.

At that moment the nearby telephone shrilled, causing Michael to jump visibly. He looked pleadingly at Alice, but she gazed back at him with a very stern expression. She knew what, or rather _who_ was now on his mind.

"I know what you're thinking," Alice said over the third ring, "but if it's the Bucket woman, _you _talk to her. She's from _your_ congregation, after all."

Michael sighed.

"I suppose you're right," he muttered, walking to the wall-mounted telephone. He reluctantly picked up the receiver.

"Vicar speaking," he said without enthusiasm, and then a look of relief took over his face. "Oh, it's you, Emmett! Thank G—I mean, how can I help you?"

There was a pause, and then Michael smiled.

"You need me for a wedding ceremony?" he said cheerfully. "Of course I'm glad to oblige. Who's the lucky lady?"

Emmett's answer did startle the vicar for a moment, but he continued, still in a cheerful tone:

"I certainly would be glad to make arrangements. Why don't you and Rose come to our home next Tuesday? Would you agree to that? Splendid. Come 'round at about nine o'clock."

Alice hastily tried to look nonchalant, as if the engagement was news to her. Michael came back to the table and sat down easily. Evidently it did not perturb him at all that Emmett was engaged to the woman who had pursued the vicar so shamelessly.

"That was Emmett," Michael said matter-of-factly. "As you might guess, he's engaged to Rose…Granger. We're going to discuss a date for the wedding, next Tuesday."

"As in Hyacinth's sister, Rose?" Alice asked, masterfully sounding as this was a surprise to her.

"Yes," Michael said calmly, and Alice stared at him in disbelief. He really _didn't_ seem even the slightest bit uncomfortable. In blind vexation, she said, sharply:

"Her! _You're_ going to conduct a wedding ceremony with_ her_ as the bride?"

"Now, Alice," Michael said gently. "Emmett had gone through a bad divorce. I don't think he'd rush into another marriage if he didn't trust her."

"That's not what I meant at all. Doesn't it bother you that you'll be conducting the wedding of a woman who…threw herself at you? It _ought_ to bother you!"

"Alice!" Michael looked surprised, not so much at her words but her tone.

Alice was unapologetic. Michael sat in silence for several seconds, wondering how he should reply to his wife's blunt words.

"Look, Alice," Michael said reasonably, "I know Rose pursued me, but that was months ago. She might have changed—Emmett sounded thrilled."

Alice's lips were set in a grim line. It was quite clear that her husband's words had not convinced her that he had no need to feel discomfited in conducting the marriage of Rose and Emmett—or that it was possible for Rose to change.

"I don't agree," Alice said flatly.

"I do," Michael said mildly. "We're all sin—,"

A derisive snort cut off Michael's words. Alice's expression was haughty as she looked at her husband.

"Don't moralize to _me,_" she said crisply, her gray eyes steely.

Michael looked at her in astonishment. Michael was surprised at her cold attitude and sharp words. Yes, Alice had every right to feel bitter toward Rose, but why was she taking her frustration out on _him?_ Then, in a cold moment of realization, Michael knew that Alice's blunt negativity and harsh words were directed as much toward him as toward Rose.

"I don't mean to moralize," Michael said evenly. "I really do think anyone can change. Rose may have realized that she's lived her life the wrong way."

Alice's eyes were as hard as flint now, and unexpectedly she said:

"Of course _you_ would stand up for Rose."

Michael was disturbed—and hurt. Why was his Alice, usually so sweet and loving, acting like this? He studied her face for a sign of remorse, but Alice's head was tilted upward proudly and a cool look in her eyes suggested that she believed she was justified to act so bitterly toward her husband.

"Alice, don't be angry," Michael pleaded. "I know those situations involving Rose were uncomfortable, but I explained them, didn't I? I was being completely honest—I would _never_ be unfaithful to you."

"What about that time I found you under the stage with Emmett and those girls who had been rehearsing _The Boyfriend_?" Alice demanded, and for the first time, the usually mild-mannered vicar felt a stab of anger.

"What's happened to you, Alice?" Michael said, his disappointment in her evident in every word. "Did you really think I'd be doing anything out of line with those young girls? Everyone was just hiding from the Bucket woman—you ought to have known that. Do you really distrust me _that _much? You even tell me to 'keep away' from other women! I've tried to be patient with you—I know we all have our weaknesses—but this has gone too far."

These plain-spoken words brought down Alice's defenses. She swallowed hard before answering her husband.

"I guess not," Alice admitted meekly. "I guess I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions about that—or about you and Rose. But I _can't_ help being jealous—I love you so much that I don't want to risk losing you."

This last statement was so ridiculous that Michael could not even find the words to reply. He gave Alice one look of utter disenchantment and stood up. Without so much as a backward glance, the vicar walked out of the kitchen and toward the front door, Alice following in his wake, an icy sense of dread overtaking her.

"Michael, where are you going?" she asked anxiously.

Michael paused at the door.

"For a drive in the countryside," he answered, trying to sound indifferent, but the hurt in his tone was thinly veiled. "Maybe it will help me sort out my thoughts…because I'm not sure _what_ to think right now. I'm very disappointed in you, Alice."

Alice cringed at Michael's last words. She desperately wished that he would shout at her, _show _his anger—anything but this carefully restrained dejection that stung more than an angry tirade.

Michael reached for the the doorknob, but Alice rushed forward and laid a restraining hand on his arm.

"Michael, _please,_" she begged. "I'm sorry. You don't even have to forgive me. Just know that I'm sorry."

"No, Alice," Michael said flatly, pulling his arm from her grasp. "I need to be alone."

And with that he left the house, closing the door behind him. Alice stood frozen in place. Perhaps Michael didn't really mean it—it was something said in a burst of emotion—and he would come walking in again in a few minutes. All Alice wanted was for him to trust that she was sorry—even if he didn't forgive her.

Five minutes passed, and Michael did not return. Alice took a deep breath and tried to stay calm, but unbidden tears started to stream down her face, and she felt as if an iron vise had clamped onto her heart. Alice hurried to the living room, collapsed onto the sofa, and let the tears fall.

Oh, how could she have done this to Michael—her cheerful, good-natured Michael, who was so devoted to his work—and to her. Yes, jealousy and an irrational distrust had taken hold of her senses; this Alice had to admit. She had jumped to conclusions about _everything_. And her wonderful husband had been so patient! With a watery smile, Alice remembered what Michael had said earlier that morning.

_"You're the best thing that ever happened to me,"_-and he had even given Alice the adoring smile he reserved only for her.

Suppose…suppose Michael didn't love her anymore. Alice buried her face in her hands and cried even harder. She knew he would never deliberately hurt her feelings; he never would send her away or leave her, but…if Michael's love for her was gone, then there would be a lonely, empty rift between them.

Emotionally drained, Alice sank into the sofa and fell into a listless sleep. Not until she heard a familiar voice did she awaken.

"Ally?"

_I must be dreaming,_ Alice thought. _I'm hearing Michael's voice, and he sounds so kind…as if nothing had happened._ She paused in her thoughts. _But if I'm dreaming, I can't think so coherently!_

Alice's eyes flew open, and she looked up to see Michael standing over her, his eyes full of concern and worry as he gazed into her teary eyes. How long had it been since he'd left? But that didn't matter.

"Ally," Michael said kindly, once again using her affectionate pet name. "I didn't want you to hurt like this. I just wanted to be honest about what I've been seeing in you. I know you love me, but you've also been…"

"Jealous and distrusting," Alice said wearily.

"Yes," Michael said matter-of-factly, settling down on the couch next to Alice. "I had to say what I did before we drifted apart. Alice, I could _never_ be unfaithful to you. I love you too much to ever do that."

"I know," Alice said tearfully. "I truly am sorry. I've just been letting my insecurities take over me. I'm glad you told me what you saw, before things changed between us."

"Don't cry, Ally. I believe you," Michael said, softly and earnestly. "I forgive you completely."

"Then…you still love me?" Alice asked hesitantly, and Michael smiled.

"_Of course_ I still love you," he said with conviction.

Michael gently settled Alice on his lap, put his arms around her in a loving, protecting circle, and kissed her tenderly. Alice smiled shyly and nestled close to him, a warm feeling of peace flooding her, melting the fear that had gripped her heart. Everything was all right again, when she was safe and snug in her beloved Michael's arms.

"I wish I could say exactly how much I love you, Alice," Michael said ruefully. "Of course, I've never been good with words."

Alice laughed—a beautiful, cheerful laugh, and looked up at her husband, eyes shining, with merriment this time, instead of tears.

"I know you're not good with words," she teased, her lovely, lilting voice full of mischief. "Have you ever heard your own sermons?"

"Oh, that's not nice," Michael pretended to chide Alice, with a return of his lighthearted, easygoing personality.

"I love you, my sweet, beautiful Alice," he said again. Then, in a jovial tone:

"Besides, I need you to keep the Bucket woman away from me!"


	14. The Day Draws Near

On the assigned Tuesday morning, Rose and Emmett met with the vicar at the Evans's home to discuss the wedding date. They agreed on a Saturday—just a month and a half from that week!

Yes, those few weeks would be a busy rush, but Rose and Emmett were more than eager to be married. Each had been trying to find someone special for all their lives. It wasn't that they needed a ceremony or a piece of paper to prove their love, but wedding ceremonies were a time-honored and revered tradition. Rose and Emmett knew this would be a joyful wedding, a symbol of their commitment—confirmation that the journeys of their lives joined them to each other in a crossroads.

As Rose and Emmett were leaving the Evans's home, the former received a surprise. Alice halted Rose at the door; startled, Rose wondered what Alice wanted of her.

"I do accept your apology, Rose," Alice said. Her tone was businesslike and her expression neutral, but Rose knew that Alice meant what she had said.

"Thank you, Mrs. Evans," Rose said warmly.

"Just call me Alice," she said, with the faintest shadow of a cordial smile.

Rose and Emmett left the Evans's residence and headed back to where they had parked their cars on the street, as each had driven separately. As they walked, Rose reflected upon Alice's congenial apology.

"Very gracious on her part," Emmett commented.

"I know it must not have been easy," Rose agreed.

Rose and Emmett were at the street now, but they stood on the sidewalk a few minutes later, talking.

"Now that the date of the ceremony is out of the way," Emmett said cheerfully, "I guess the wedding preparations will really go into motion now."

Rose chuckled.

"Yes, there's a lot to do, but with our sisters' help, it will probably be easier than we think."

"You mean with Hyacinth's help," Emmett kidded, and he pretended to look thoughtful. "Well, she _might_ let us do something…maybe polish a few glasses or put stamps on the invitations…"

"Put stamps on the invitations? I'll let her have that task!" Rose laughed. "Hyacinth actually uses a ruler to align her stamps perfectly."

"Ah, a classic perfectionist! Are you sure there isn't any German blood in your family?" Emmett said with a grin.

"Don't suggest that to Hyacinth," Rose said. "She'll assure you that"—here Rose gave the best imitation of her eldest sister's voice as she could—" 'there's never been any foreign blood in _our_ family. Proudly English through all generations.'"

Rose and Emmett had an unchecked laugh at Hyacinth's expense and then went their separate ways—for a time.

**...**

Rose stared at a broad array of sample invitations on Hyacinth's kitchen table. Because she had chosen a light blue as her wedding colors, there were several shades of muted blue, as well as an array of shades of beige. Rose settled on a cornflower-blue cared, embossed with a fleur-de-lis at the top.

"That's a nice one, dear," Hyacinth said, but then frowned slightly. "It _does_ look a little more lavender than blue, though. It looked different at the stationary shop."

"_I_ think it looks blue enough," Rose said cheerily. "Well, I'd better get these invitations sent off."

She opened the package of the cornflower blue—or was that lavender?—invitation cards and began writing and addressing them by hand. There would not be many guests, but Rose, who had always taken pride in her handsome handwriting, made sure that every word was written perfectly.

One morning, Rose and Hyacinth, their sisters, and Liz had a 'conference' at the _Bouquet_ residence (where else?) to discuss the wedding reception. Violet thought that Rose and Emmett deserved a grand reception, and offered to pay for it. Rose was touched by Violet's gesture, but she wanted the reception to be relaxed and casual. Everyone gave their input, but it was Liz's that received unanimous approval—yes, that included Hyacinth!

"We could make it very personalized if we borrow the church hall," Liz suggested. "We could do all the decorating ourselves, and Rose and Emmett could pick the china and silver they want to use."

"I haven't any china, or silverware," Rose objected.

"I've got the silverware set that Mummy used for the holidays," Hyacinth said, "and the silverware set that was a gift from Aunt Shirley at Richard's and my wedding."

Liz chimed in, "I have wedding silverware, too, but I've never had occasion to use it; Trent and I have never entertained, and we were never fussy about our holiday place settings."

"Yes, there are some people who take a more…_casual _approach to holiday arrangements," Hyacinth said. Her tone was not unkind, but there was a slightly aloof inflection.

"I like casual for the holidays," Rose defended Liz, who smiled gratefully.

Daisy brought the conversation back on track. "Well, Rose, what do you think?"

"Liz, why don't you fetch your silverware set, if you would, and Hyacinth, you bring out your sets, and then I'll decide."

Thus, Liz went back to her home to retrieve her set of silverware, and Hyacinth fetched her own; a few minutes later, Rose was scrutinizing each set. They were all very lovely, but Rose finally decided to use Liz's silverware. Lightweight and beautifully glossy, each utensil had a pattern of raised leaves and tiny birds on the handles.

"It _is_ a very pretty set, Elizabeth," Hyacinth said grandly, as if handing down a great favor.

"Thank you," Liz said, a little startled by the compliment.

Rose decided to use Hyacinth's beautiful crystal glassware for the reception; these had a frosted pattern of ivy leaves and the rims of the cups were beautifully scalloped. Not one piece had so much as a tiny scratch.

"Now that that's all over," Rose said with a sigh, "it's time to choose a wedding dress."

**...**

"Hyacinth, I'm not wearing white," Rose said for the fifth time as the two of them entered another dress shop. "It just doesn't feel right. Hey, that rhymes! 'I'm not wearing _white_—it doesn't feel _right_!' Almost like a mantra!"

Hyacinth frowned at this most improper display of spontaneous humor, but said nothing to reprove her youngest sister.

"Well, if you don't want white, at least get a nice pastel," Hyacinth said firmly, but Rose had already moved on. She looked through rack after rack, not quite finding what she wanted. Half an hour later, Rose had nearly gone through the entire store when a shimmer of pale blue caught her attention.

Pulling the dress off of the rack, Rose examined it critically. It was a beautiful silk creation with a slightly fitted bodice, lacy three-quarters sleeves, and a subtle floral design in tiny beads at the hem and the collar. Hyacinth nodded in eager approval.

"That's beautiful," she said with a delighted smile. "That color goes wonderfully with your hair."

"Thank you," Rose said.

"Now, don't forget our little agreement," Hyacinth went on, bossily. "Richard and I want your wedding dress to be a gift."

"Yes, and I am very grateful. I'd better try it on first, though."

Thus, Rose tried on the dress; it fit perfectly, but she refused to show it to Hyacinth.

"I'll show it to you, Daisy, Violet, Liz, and Richard next week, before the wedding," Rose said authoritatively. She and Hyacinth had planned to have tea and light refreshments at the Buckets' home before they went to the church for the wedding.

"All right, Rose. I guess I can wait," Hyacinth said agreeably.

**...**

Three days before the wedding, Rose and Emmett took another walk in the park, and as they strolled along, the 'star-crossed lovers' fondly remembered the night that Emmett had proposed.

"Emmett," Rose said suddenly, "when are you finally going to admit that our kiss last Christmas was more than just the result of 'overexcitement'? Ah, and let's not forget when Onslow gave you and Liz a lift to town and I had to sit on your knee," she added, smiling most flirtatiously.

Emmett laughed.

"I can't say I _didn't_ enjoy those moments," he said playfully. "Rose, do you remember what you said the _very_ first time we met?"

Rose did not have to pause to recall.

"Yes, I remember," she giggled, and quoted herself; "'I can see he's suffered! Women can be _bitches!_'"

"And here we are today," Emmett said, almost in awe, stopping to draw Rose into his arms. Rose looked at him with starry eyes and kissed him.

"Mummy always believed in what she called the 'forces of destiny'," Rose said seriously. "She said that sometimes two people are meant to be together, but they have to discover it themselves, before the opportunity passes."

"And we did," Emmett said thankfully. "Just in time."

_If I was a sculptor, but then again, no_

_Or a man who makes potions in a traveling show_

_I know it's not much, but it's the best I can do_

_My gift is my song and this one's for you_


	15. A Happy Day

As the wedding day grew closer, Rose became more and more nervous. Suppose it rained, like it did during Daisy and Onslow's granddaughter's christening? Would rain on a wedding day be bad luck? Suppose it rained on her beautiful new gown! Suppose one of them took ill! Suppose—Rose considered irrationally—that Emmett would change his mind? Suppose…

_Stop worrying, Rose Granger_, _soon to be Rose Hawksworth,_ Rose scolded herself on the day before the wedding. _It doesn't do you any good._

The day of the wedding finally dawned on a clear, crisp Saturday morning with not the slightest chance of rain. Rose woke up well before dawn and spent nearly fifteen minutes pacing back and forth in her room, scarcely able to realize that the day was real. She was going to be married to Emmett. It had seemed impossible just a few months ago.

"Stop pacing about! You're just going to make yourself sick," Rose said aloud, with a return of her adolescent habit of talking to herself.

There was a knock at the door.

"Having an interesting conversation?" Daisy asked cheerfully.

"Ha ha," Rose said.

"I've brought you some cocoa," Daisy continued. Rose opened the door and gratefully accepted the (chipped) mug of hot cocoa.

"Thank you, Daisy," Rose said, smiling. She followed Daisy downstairs and sat in the living room, sipping the sweet, steaming drink. It did help relax.

"We'd better go so we're not late for Hyacinth's tea and light refreshments at ten forty-five," Daisy said.

Rose carefully gathered her covered gown and headed to the car. Daisy followed, looking very lovely in a ruffled pink skirt, black velvet blouse, black 'alligator' pumps and a simple dark pink, felt hat with a touch of black taffeta. Even Onslow looked sharp in a freshly pressed suit and a new tie.

"You look just as handsome as you did on _our_ wedding day," Daisy said sentimentally, gazing at her husband.

"Isn't she romantic?" Rose sighed.

"Just what I need, a parade of hormones," Onslow said, but Rose and Daisy noticed that he was trying to hide a smile.

All three got into Rose's car, which was marginally more dependable than Onslow's old 'tinner'. Onslow steered out of the street, away from the 'shabby chic' (as Daisy defended her 'décor') council house and to the Buckets' pristine residence. The drive seemed to go by in a flash, and Rose, gown in tow, rang the doorbell.

Hyacinth greeted the trio.

"Ten forty-seven," she said. "_Almost_ on time."

"Oh, lighten up!" Rose scolded, pushing past Hyacinth. Daisy and Onslow followed and went into the Buckets' lounge.

"Watch your dress, dear, don't wrinkle it," Hyacinth said, ignoring Rose's chiding. "Everyone's in the lounge, waiting. Why don't you go to the bathroom and put on your dress?"

"Yes, I will do that," Rose said faintly, suddenly feeling nervous again. In less than two hours she'd be Mrs. Rose Granger!

Rose put on her dress with trembling hands and donned new shoes; these were white satin pumps with a low heel. Finally, she put a necklace, a gift from Emmett, around her neck and walked into the living room.

As soon as the door opened, everyone—Hyacinth, Daisy, Violet, Liz, Richard, and even Onslow looked up. There was silence as Rose entered the room and paused, and she looked from face to face nervously, as if awaiting a verdict.

"You look rather spiffing, Rose," Onslow said, being the first to speak. Rose stared. She couldn't remember when Onslow had ever given her a compliment! The others quickly chimed in.

"You've never looked lovelier," Violet, who had the last word, said.

Indeed, Rose _had_ never looked lovelier. The silky dress complimented her figure and the pale blue brought out the blonde highlights in her hair. Her brown eyes sparkled, and at her throat was a pink, teardrop crystal necklace.

"The necklace is from Emmett," Rose said. "The road to this day wasn't very easy. Emmett told me that this represents though there have been many grief-filled tears along the way, there were—and can be—just as many happy tears."

"Oh, that's so beautiful!" gasped the ever romantic Daisy, dabbing at her eyes.

"Well," Hyacinth said, changing the subject, "I'll bring out the tea and biscuits."

The others enjoyed the 'light refreshments', but Rose could not eat or drink a drop; she was too excited—and she didn't want to risk spilling tea on her lovely gown.

At long last, it was time to drive to the church. Rose was a 'nervous wreck' and blindly followed her family—which now included Liz, of course—out of the door and into Richard and Hyacinth's car. She wanted to ride with the sister who had done so much to keep the family together during the years after 'Mummy' had died.

"We'll be right behind you!" Daisy called before Richard steered the car out of the driveway.

"Me, too!" Violet said.

The ride to the church seemed to take forever, yet it seemed to take no time at all. At the same time the Buckets and the rest of the family were making their way to the church, Emmett was in the church itself, pacing nervously back and forth.

**...**

"Your lovely lady isn't going to get here any faster by your pacing the floor like a sleepwalker," Michael teased gently.

"Don't worry, Uncle Emmett. Aunt Rose _will_ come soon enough," said a lean young man with short brunette hair. Sheridan Bucket was the splitting image of Richard in his youth. "Try not to get worked up—you've got a wonderful day ahead of you."

"Listen to him," the vicar said, smiling. "That's what I did on the day I married my lovely Alice—I just kept telling myself not to become a nervous wreck."

Alice laughed, and Michael looked at her suspiciously.

"You were practically going to pieces before _our_ wedding," she said, laughing blithely. "At least, that's what was reported to me."

Alice then strode away to look outside once more, and at last she saw the Buckets' impeccably polished car pull into the church parking lot.

"They're here!" Alice exclaimed, dashing back.

Emmett paled. Rachel, a close cousin of Emmett and Liz, had also come; she laid a reassuring hand on Emmett's shoulder, and then everyone, excluding Emmett and Michael, dashed back to their places.

"Isn't this _thrilling?_" Gail whispered to Sheridan, who had been assigned to sit next to her.

"Yes, of course!" Sheridan whispered back.

The doors of the church opened, and Hyacinth, Daisy, Violet, Onslow, Liz quickly took their seats. Rose, on Richard's arm, headed down the aisle.

For a moment Rose choked—how she wished Daddy could have been the one walking her down the aisle! But Daddy, left under the care of a good neighbor, was too incapacitated to have come. Richard seemed to sense what she was thinking, for he said kindly, in a low voice:

"Don't be sad. Just remember how special your father is, and he'll always be with you."

"Thank you," Rose said, blinking back tears, but she was smiling broadly by the time she joined an astonished Emmett at the altar.

"Rose…you look absolutely beautiful," Emmett said eagerly.

The entire ceremony went by in a blur, and when Michael uttered the traditional, "You may now kiss the bride," Emmett shamelessly kissed Rose passionately.

Sitting in the pew next to Richard, Hyacinth disapprovingly said in an undertone:

"Such heavy-handed displays of affection in a church!"

"You didn't seem to disapprove of that at _our_ wedding," Richard teased, also in an undertone. Hyacinth looked at her feet, for she was blushing.

The onlookers gathered around the happy couple, all talking at once, and to Rose's surprise, Alice gave her a hesitant hug.

"I'm so happy for you and Emmett. I really am," she said. Rose smiled gratefully.

"All right, everyone," Hyacinth took command of the chattering crowd. "There will be plenty of time for talk in the church hall. It's time for a celebration!"

A delightful feast was laid out on a long table in the church hall; most of the menu was provided by Hyacinth, of course, but Onslow had provided a large platter of his signature bacon butties, and Mrs. Lomax, who had been present at the wedding to play the organ, brought a large batch of homemade peppermint cookies, which turned out to be inedible. In light of the elderly woman's well-meant favor, the guests pretended to be enjoying the them, but were none too convincing. Mrs. Lomax saw their expressions and tasted a cookie herself.

"Don't eat those for my sake!" she exclaimed after she had taken one bite of her own creation. "I must have put too much baking soda in."

"Don't worry, Mrs. Lomax," Emmett said. "It's the thought that counts."

When everyone finished eating, the tables and chairs were pushed aside, and the dancing began. Richard had brought the Buckets' CD player so that there could be music—all hand-selected by Rose and Emmett.

The newlyweds of course had the first dance alone, and the onlookers smiled as they watched loving couple sway with the melody and words of their chosen song, which was none other than 'Your Song'.

During the entire song, Rose and Emmett felt as if no one else existed except them. They were alone and blissful in a world of their own, floating along to the sweet words and gentle tune, but when the song concluded and another began, everyone else, even Mrs. Lomax, joined in the dancing.


	16. Epilogue

The dancing continued long into the afternoon. Between songs, the guests sometimes went back to the table to get a bit to eat or a refreshing drink, they were dancing so easily. Onslow danced with every lady present, especially Daisy, of course; even Hyacinth danced with him, and she seemed to be having fun—perhaps she had enjoyed their dance on the QEII more than what she would ever admit.

Gail, her green eyes sparkling merrily, had been looking at Sheridan for quite some time. A month ago, she and her ex-boyfriend, Harold, had mutually and genially broken up; they just hadn't been compatible. But this Sheridan, _he_ seemed like a 'jolly good chap', as her father used to say. Gail finally summoned the courage to go to Sheridan and ask:

"May I have this dance?"

"Of course!" Sheridan said cheerfully, and took her hand.

Gail quickly discovered that Sheridan was an excellent dancer. They danced through three songs, and at the end of the third, Gail startled herself by unceremoniously asking Sheridan if he would be interested in getting together sometime. Sure, they had only met two hours ago, but why _not_ ask?

Sheridan paused before he replied, and then proceeded almost nervously:

"You're a very pretty girl, Gail," he said sincerely, in a low voice. "But…you see…well, I'm gay."

"Why, that's all right!" Gail exclaimed softly, noticing how uncomfortable Sheridan looked. "Don't be ashamed! One of my best friends is gay, but it doesn't change how I think about him."

"I'm glad you're so open-minded about that," Sheridan said gratefully. "My family doesn't know yet…I keep meaning to tell them."

"You'll know when you're ready to let them know," Gail said softly.

During Gail and Sheridan's exchange, Rose and Emmett were still dancing; they scarcely paused between songs. It felt as if they would never run out of energy.

Michael and Alice sailed by, and Rose was glad to see how blissful they were. It was obvious that Alice had as deep a bond with Michael as she, Rose, had with Emmett.

When the newlyweds and their guests had tired of dancing, it was time to go home. They filed out of the church hall, and Michael and Alice smilingly bid all of them farewell.

Hand in hand, Rose and Emmett headed to the parking lot, and were startled when they saw a sleek, apple-red convertible next to Hyacinth and Richard's car.

"Happy wedding day!" Violet exclaimed, smiling.

"It's amazing! It looks even better than it did in the picture!" Rose and Emmett exclaimed together.

"Well," Richard said smilingly, "shall we all go home?"

"Yes, we shall!" Hyacinth exclaimed, beaming at Richard, Rose, Emmett, and Liz. "Just think, all of us next to each other! We can see each other every day!"

Rose and Emmett looked at each other and exchanged a look of mock dismay. A few minutes later, a long queue headed toward Heather Avenue; Rose and Emmett in their sporty new car, Richard and Hyacinth in their pristine compact, and Liz in her own white car.

At Heather Avenue, Rose and Emmett bid Hyacinth, Richard and Liz goodbye, and Emmett steered the car into the driveway of their very own home.

"Welcome home, dear," Emmett said grandly, opening the door and escorting Rose into the hall, which was now papered with a pastel floral pattern; the floor was of cream colored, Italian marble tiles, and it led straight into the living room, for which they had chosen pale blue carpet and pinstriped gold and white wallpaper. The kitchen, bedroom, and bathroom had all been made over as well.

"Home, indeed," Rose said dreamily, and she closed the door behind them.

"I'm going to change out of this dress," Rose said in a more practical tone. "I'll be back in a few minutes," she added, for Emmett had gone to his piano; Rose wondered why, but she politely did not inquire.

Emmett went to his piano as Rose walked into the beige-carpeted bedroom; she had already moved her clothes to her new home. She'd also had a wardrobe change—not a miniskirt in sight. Still, the new clothes Rose had chosen were still fashionable.

Rose carefully removed her lovely dress, hung it up, and then slipped into a floral print, black silk kimono. Then she exited the bedroom and headed back to the living room.

As Rose got closer to the living room, she heard Emmett playing the piano, and she instantly recognized the melody. With with perfect precision, he was playing 'Your Song'.

Delighted, Rose strode into the living room, and from there she picked up the lyrics and began to sing. Emmett did not stop playing, but he turned at the sound of Rose's voice. Her singing was beautiful and natural, and she was perfectly on-tune.

Rose stood by the piano, and Emmett played all the way through the song, Rose singing along the whole time. When he finished, Emmett looked at Rose with astonished admiration.

"I wish you had sung for me before," Emmett remarked, "but you seemed so shy about it!"

Rose shrugged. "Like I said, I haven't sung since I was in my high school choir," she said, smiling. "I'm glad to know I haven't lost my touch."

"You sing almost as well as Hyacinth," Emmett teased, and Rose laughed.

"I hope I never hear her sing our favorite song," she said, grinning.

The afternoon faded into night, and, worn out from dancing and overstimulation, the happy couple settled into bed together for the first time. Rose cuddled close to Emmett, and he gently ran his fingers through her hair as she smiled peacefully.

"Sweet dreams, Rosie," Emmett said affectionately, and the last thing 'Rosie' remembered of that night was the gentle touch of Emmett's lips on her cheek.

_And you can tell everybody this is your song_

_It may be quite simple but now that it's done_

_I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind_

_That I put down in words_

_How wonderful life is when you're in the world._


End file.
